New Terrain
by BookQ36
Summary: ENT 1.2 A day spent as a hostage in irradiated tunnels with a gunshot wound is bound to take its toll on Reed. Reserved man with radiation sickness, anybody? Anyone want to see the nummy angst and even nummier friend!fluff in later chapters? Coda to Terra Nova.
1. Night One

1

Sickbay, E deck, 2020 hours June 5 2151

"Archer to Sickbay"

The comm. buzzed and Jean went over to the wall panel to answer it. "Sickbay, Olenick here. Is there something you need, sir?"

"I need to speak with Phlox."

Jean looked over at the Sickbay doors which had just closed behind Phlox as he headed into the corridor, medkit in hand. "He's on his way to the launch bay now, sir."

"One of the Novans was hurt in a cave-in on the planet, so we have two patients coming aboard Enterprise."

"Understood, sir. I'll inform Phlox and get Sickbay ready."

A few minutes later the captain and Phlox arrived with Lieutenant Reed and a few Novans in tow. The injured Novan, Akary, was carried in by the Novan leader and two crewmen while Archer helped Reed limp into Sickbay and over to a biobed.

After putting away his medkit, Phlox spoke with Jean. "Ensign, I think it would be best if you saw to Lieutenant Reed. The Novans have met me already, so it would be easier for me to treat the other patient."

She nodded in agreement, eyes briefly darting over to look at the lieutenant. "Alright. Reed was shot in his left leg, right?"

Phlox tilted his head to one side for a moment, trying to work out which leg she meant. Every so often, he still found the nuances of English confusing. "Yes, and since he was on the planet much longer than the rest of the away team he was exposed to far more radiation, so there might be some residual affects."

Akary was becoming increasingly uneasy, and when he saw the Denobulan doctor coming towards him he shouted for the captain. "Archer! How will your skyship fix my leg?"

The captain had been standing near Reed and speaking with him, but at this outburst he patted the lieutenant's shoulder and flashed him a rueful smile. "Duty calls." Reed nodded his understanding and Archer walked across Sickbay to calm the upset Novan. On his way across he passed Jean who was heading over to a supply cabinet near the biobeds.

She got out an instrument tray and put a few things on it before coming over to Reed. He was perched uncomfortably on the edge of a bed, sitting awkwardly so that his injured limb wouldn't touch anything, and carefully balanced to keep himself from falling. His uniform was dirty and he looked tired but relieved to be back on board.

After she put down her tray of instruments on a small rolling table which she set up next to Reed's bed, she turned to face him with a warm smile. "Welcome back, sir. If you'll just lay back I'll take care of that bullet for you."

He shifted position and smiled at her briefly. "Thank you, Ensign. I've been hoping to hear that."

She administered a local anesthetic and within minutes she'd located and removed the bullet from his leg. Afterwards she cleaned and bandaged the wound, put aside the instruments to be cleaned, and discarded everything which wasn't needed anymore.

Reed idly watched her tidying up, trying to process all that had happened since the morning. Just a few hours ago no one on board had any idea whether or not there was anyone still living on Terra Nova. Now the 70-year-old mystery was solved and all of the Novans, descendants of the original human colonists, were going to be relocated to the safety of the southern continent.

Suddenly, he noticed that Jean was standing nearby and looking at him expectantly; he must have zoned out for a few moments, thinking about the planet, and missed something.

He sat up, shaking his head at himself for being so impolite. "I'm sorry ensign, did you say something?"

She narrowed her eyes and looked at him curiously. "Are you feeling alright, sir?"

He nodded slowly and returned her curious look. "Y-es, ensign. Except for my leg I feel fine. I was just thinking about everything that happened today. My mind must have wandered while we were talking."

Now she wasn't looking at him but at the scanner. The scans seemed normal aside from a slight drop in red blood cell count, but she attributed it to the blood he'd lost from his wound. She lowered the scanner and shook her head. "I think we were talking about the mission before we got side tracked."

The medical scanner was still humming so she turned it off. "I asked how the Novans treated you."

He shrugged. "Well enough." He sat up and looked across Sickbay at the Novan Phlox was treating. He wasn't one of the Novans Reed had seen in the tunnels, but he had the same grayish flaky skin and odd colorful designs on his face as the others.

"I tried to strike up a conversation with one of the guards. He wasn't interested in making small talk, but later on he offered me something to eat."

As they talked Reed began to feel strange. His tiredness, which he'd written off as a result of the mission, was increasing as time passed and not abating as it should. In fact, he could barely keep his eyes open. He blinked a few times and shook his head slightly to wake himself up, but instead his stomach clenched in a familiar way.

_Oh damn. I don't need this_.

He gritted his teeth and took slow, deep breaths, trying to push aside the sudden nausea.

_Good thing I'm already sitting down. Can't carry on a decent conversation standing up and feeling like this_... He looked up guiltily, realizing that his conversation with Jean had ended mid-sentence.

"I'm sorry again, Ensign. I can't seem to concentrate for some reason."

She looked him over carefully and, on a hunch, took the scanner out of her pocket. "Sir, are you sure you're okay? You don't look too good."

He shook his head in confusion and then blanched as his stomach did a flip. "I don't know, actually. I feel... odd. Like being seasick." He'd put an arm across his middle and shut his eyes tightly in a grimace.

_Quite a lot like being seasick, actually. Or when I had zero-g training. Well, we know what comes next, don't we? I wish she'd stop watching me so closely._

He felt her hand rest briefly on his arm. "Why don't you lie down again?"

He shook his head 'no', pressing his lips together tightly and crossing both arms over his stomach as he bent forward slightly.

"Would you like a bag?"

He forced his eyes open briefly and looked at her for barely a second, not trusting himself to speak.

Her eyebrows knit worriedly at the pinched, anxious look on his face and she offered a weak smile. "I'll take that as a 'yes'."

Reed turned away slightly, closing his eyes again and letting his head droop. He seemed to wilt, resigning himself to the coming embarrassment. Sickbay was full of people. Phlox, Cutler, and Jean were all there, not to mention Captain Archer and the two Novans.

_And everyone will find out exactly how strong my stomach really is in less than a minute. Perfect._

Jean stepped away from his bed, moving quickly. She dashed over to a cabinet on the far side of Sickbay and pulled open the drawer which contained the air-sick bags. She grabbed a bunch before closing it again and rushing back to her patient. Once she was close enough, she grabbed the end of the privacy curtain and pulled it shut around Reed's bed. He glanced up at the sound of the curtain rings sliding along the track and seemed to relax after seeing that the curtain had been drawn again.

He didn't stay relaxed very long. Bare moments after she stepped over, he started retching, one hand clamped over his mouth and the other still on his stomach. She opened one of the bags for him and pushed it into the hand over his mouth. He gripped the bag so tightly that his knuckles turned white, but he soon realized doing that just closed the bag so nothing could go into it, so he loosened his hold. As he emptied his stomach into the bag, his other hand migrated up to help keep the bag in place.

Half a minute later, it was over. He coughed a little, trying to dislodge something that had stuck in his throat, and absently noted that Jean had put one hand on his upper arm, holding him steady while he was being sick. Her other hand had been, and still was, occupied with holding several more bags, in addition to holding onto his other arm.

_Good thing, too. Might've lost my balance, otherwise._

He lowered the bag and carefully sealed it, trying to avoid catching a whiff of the sick while he did so.

She hovered just at the corner of his vision, not wanting to crowd him but still watching him worriedly. As soon as he was satisfied that the bag was closed adequately, he started to hand it over and she took it, putting it aside.

He was surprised when she handed him two cups, one empty and one partially filled with water. When he looked at her in confusion, she nodded at the water. "So you can rinse the taste out of your mouth."

He accepted the first cup without saying anything, just took a small sip of the water in his mouth and swirled it around a little before spitting it out into the empty cup. He grimaced. It helped a little, but the taste of bile was still fairly strong, so he repeated the process until the cup of clean water was empty.

"Sir, would you like more water?"

Instead of looking at her, he took a minute to run his tongue along the inside of his teeth before answering. "Yes, thank you."

She nodded, awkwardly patting his shoulder. "Don't mention it." She took the cup of dirty water from him and disposed of it, coming back over with a fresh cup. He accepted it without question and resumed trying to get rid of the sour, sickening taste. It took another cup before he was satisfied.

"All done?"

He glanced up at her and bobbed his head once, still holding a cup in either hand. When she took the cups from him, she noticed that his hands were shaking very slightly. "Sir, why don't you lie down? I'm sure you'd be more comfortable."

Reed nodded and complied without argument, which was enough on its own to make Jean worry. He generally fought his doctors every step of the way and insisted that he was fine. On the rare occasion when he didn't fight, it was because he didn't have the energy to, and he actually felt sick enough to be cooperative.

She turned the scanner back on and checked the readings more closely. Reed was showing signs of mild radiation poisoning, but he hadn't been on the planet long enough to cause this level of exposure. Her brow furrowed in the glow of blue light from the scanner as she tried to think of something which would account for his symptoms. _Hold on..._

"You said the guard offered you something to eat?"

Reed had closed his eyes but now he opened them again. "Yes. Some kind of local animal. It wasn't cooked thoroughly. Looked kind of like an armadillo, actually... "

Her eyes went wide. _Bad. Very very bad._ "Sir, you are aware that those tunnels and the creatures living in them were heavily irradiated?"

His brow crinkled, remembering T'Pol's initial scans from orbit. "Subcommander T'Pol said there were low levels of surface radiation, but it was so minimal that a few hours of exposure wouldn't be dangerous."

"Yes sir, but you were on the planet much longer than anyone else. The radiation is actually worse in the tunnels, since the groundwater and soil are saturated by it. Their groundwater is contaminated, too, so any prepared food they gave you was also contaminated. The Novans have an inherited immunity to the radiation and they're used to their own foods, so they wouldn't think that it might make you sick. It was a good faith mistake."

He groaned, cursing himself for an idiot. _Good job, Malcolm. Serves me right for eating something cooked by a tunnel dweller on a radioactive rock. The diggers could've at least had the decency to glow or something. Small wonder my lunch tasted off_.

"Good faith or not, I assume this won't be pleasant."

"It isn't serious, but you're right; it won't be fun. It should be like having a bad stomach bug. You'll need to sleep as much as possible during the next few days and you'll have to stay hydrated. It'll give your body more time to recover and if you're asleep the time will seem to pass more quickly."

He closed his eyes and made a soft noise of displeasure, quietly mumbling "bloody wonderful."

She stood by the bed and looked at him sympathetically for a minute before going to a drawer and taking out a vial of blue liquid. She loaded it into a hypo and touched his shoulder, holding it up for him to see. "Here, this'll help with the nausea and it'll let you sleep."

Her hand was halfway to his neck when she paused. "Ensign?" He stared at her expectantly, raising his head from the pillow when she lowered her hand. "You are going to give me that medicine, aren't you?"

She shook her head, thinking. "Yes sir, but first I'm just gonna make sure it won't interact with the other meds I have to put you on." She stepped away from his bed and over to the diagnostic console, where she quickly pulled up the necessary information.

He started to sit up, blanched, and lay back again. "What other medicine?" He couldn't see what she was doing from where he lay, but he heard her move away from the console and start taking some things out of drawers and storage cabinets.

"Well, when someone's been exposed to radiation we use a mixed treatment to take care of the aftereffects. The fact that you ate radioactive material will make treating you trickier, and the fact that you were shot won't help any."

Not being able to see what she was doing made him uneasy, as did her mention of a less than straightforward treatment. He hoped that the treatment would just be limited to a short stay in Sickbay, a few doses of painkillers and something to settle his stomach, but he had a sinking feeling that it would be more involved than that.

Jean stepped back through the curtains, a worried frown on her face. "I'm sorry sir, but I have to tell Phlox about your exposure to the radiation."

Reed slowly raised his head, looking at her and not seeming to understand. "But you're a doctor. Can't you tell him after giving me the medicine?"

"I could, but Phlox has more experience. He might know about a better treatment option. Besides, he's my CO. He has to sign off on my treatments anyway." Reed frowned and Jean lightly tapped his arm. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to make you wait, but it won't take long."

He scowled at her back as she moved into the main part of Sickbay. Her footsteps moved towards Phlox's voice and Reed listened with some amusement as the doctor tried to chat with the Novans. They didn't seem inclined to be very talkative, so the Denobulan found himself doing the lion's share of the talking, which was probably why he sounded so happy when Jean came up to him, PADD and scanner in hand. The two doctors spoke very briefly and then Jean was walking back over to her patient.

As she got closer Reed saw that she had returned with a variety of medical equipment, including an IV stand, a sealed old-fashioned hypodermic needle, tubes and what looked like a few bags of colorful liquid.

He eyed the equipment distrustfully, especially the IV, which he didn't seem to like the look of. "What's all this for?"

She indicated each item with her chin, not looking at him as she put them down on the small rolling instrument cart. "The IV fluids will keep you hydrated and replace the nutrients you've lost." _And the ones you're going to lose_. Odds were he'd be sick again over the next few days and the dextrose and electrolyte solution would keep his blood chemistry at the right balance. "There's also an antibiotic since the radiation might make you more susceptible to infection, plus a painkiller and something for the nausea."

Reed nodded, not overjoyed at the prospect of having a needle stuck in him for an extended period of time. At the same time, though, he was glad that she wasn't trying to use any of Phlox's creatures on him. No matter how much he disliked the idea of needles, they were better by far than any treatment involving the Osmotic Eel or Regulan bloodworms. At least with a more conventional treatment, there was no x-factor of another living being and whatever unpredictable things it might decide to do.

Jean smiled, taking a small antiseptic swab and wiping it over the back of his hand. She'd put on new gloves at some point, but Reed hadn't seen her do it_. Must have been when I wasn't looking, or when she was over with Phlox._ He idly wondered what the gloves were for, trying to look up at the ceiling and not to think about the sterile needle she'd just unwrapped.

"Okay, sir. You'll feel a pinch in the back of your hand. It may hurt a little, but the pain will pass in a second or two."

He looked over at her, trying not to let his apprehension show – he'd never liked needles – and trying not to let his eyes slip to what she was holding. "Do get in with it, ensign."

She nodded, giving him a quick, sympathetic smile. "Yes sir."

He heard a plastic 'pop', assumed it was the cap coming off the needle, and went back to studying the ceiling. His stomach was churning again and he bit down lightly on his lip, trying to squash the feeling. Reed didn't know if it was because he was uneasy about the needle or because he wasn't well, but he knew that he'd be sick again, and soon, if that anti-nausea medicine didn't find its way into his bloodstream quickly.

"Don't worry, sir." He felt a tight pinch and sudden pressure in the back of his right hand. True to her word, the pain was gone in an instant. "Nobody likes this part."

He looked down, curious despite himself when he felt something being smoothed across the back of his hand. He saw Jean inserting a small tube at the end of the IV line into what looked like a small duct. The duct was attached to the needle she'd inserted into his vein and taped securely in place.

_That must have been what she was smoothing._ A tiny bit of blood, no more than a drop or two, had spilled onto his skin. _Neat job_. The IV tube went into the duct and Reed felt an odd, slight pressure on the back of his hand as the IV fluids started into his system.

Jean had hung the various bags from the IV stand and positioned it near the head of his bed. At the moment she was turning a small knob, adjusting the rate at which the drugs dripped from their bags into Reed's IV line.

"Alright, sir. I'm going to give you a mild sedative..." she turned around, loading a hypo. When she turned back, some of the color had returned to his face and he'd released his lower lip from his teeth. Jean was visibly relieved; she hadn't enjoyed seeing him in distress. "Are the anti-nausea and pain meds working?"

Reed nodded, feeling suddenly buoyed up by the medications and oddly touched by her concern. "Yes, actually. Thank you."

She smiled, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Here's the sedative, sir. You should be asleep in no time."

After she administered the dose, he groaned quietly and then crossed his arms, trying to ward off a strong shiver, but being careful not to move his hand too much since he didn't want to inadvertently remove the IV. She put down the empty hypospray and took a pillow and some blankets out of a drawer located next to the bed. When she slid the pillow beneath his head, he opened his eyes briefly and thanked her through chattering teeth.

Chills were racing up and down his back, beginning to move down his arms and lingering on the back of his neck, making the short hairs stand on end. _When did it get so cold in here?_

Suddenly he was warm again and he opened his eyes curiously. He saw that Jean had spread a couple of pale blue medical blankets over him and was reaching for a knob on one of the wall panels.

"Not that I don't appreciate it, Ensign, but I don't intend to stay here for long. I'll be going back to my quarters shortly, so the blankets aren't necessary."

Jean lightly bit the inside of her lip, knowing he wouldn't be too happy about this. Of course, she was a little surprised that he hadn't figured it out on his own. After all, how usual was it for doctors to stick a patient with an IV line and then send them on their way? "I'm sorry, sir, but Phlox is keeping you here overnight for observation. He'll release you in the morning depending on how you're doing."

Surprisingly, Reed didn't seem annoyed. In fact, he actually looked relieved. As much as he wanted to be back in his own quarters, he'd been dreading having to limp all the way there from F Deck. He'd barely been able to get from the shuttle to Sickbay, even with help, and they were fairly close together on the same deck. At least now he wouldn't have to worry about walking anywhere until the next morning.

A bit confused but glad that he was taking it well, she put her hand back on the knob and turned down the lights over his bed. "Are you comfortable, sir?"

His eyes were already closed but he answered in the affirmative, thanking her afterwards.

"Sir, if you need anything, please press this." Reed felt her put something into his hand. He opened his eyes, curious about what it was, and saw a small flat disc with a button on it and a cord connecting it to the wall.

He looked at it blankly. _What exactly does she think I might need?_

She saw his look of doubt. "Just press it if you have a problem, sir. Sleep well."

He looked up at her, puzzled, but he didn't hand back the call button, even though he clearly wanted to. "Thank you, Ensign."

She shook her head, allowing the beginnings of a smile to tug at her lips as she closed the hanging curtains to give him some privacy. _I wish he'd stop being so damn proper and reserved. Well, at least it means he's cooperating._

* * *

A few hours later, well after Phlox had finished treating the Novans, both of the doctors and Crewman Cutler were all still in Sickbay. The Novans and Captain Archer were all gone by then and Reed was the only patient left.

Jean was puttering around, helping put Sickbay back to rights, when a soft chime sounded on the bio-monitors. It was Reed's call button.

She grabbed a couple of air-sick bags and quickly walked over to his bed, stepping past the curtains. He had twisted onto his right hip and was trying to edge his head over to the side of the bed while simultaneously holding his stomach.

"Sir," Jean moved around to stand by his head and bent down, putting a tentative hand on his arm. "D'you want a bag?"

He nodded, blanching afterwards but not letting go of his stomach. Of course, this meant that he didn't have a hand free to take the bag. Jean shook her head. Holding a bag for him would be tricky and might embarrass him, so she tried to guide one of them into his hands, but he wouldn't uncurl his fists.

"Would you rather use a bin?"

Reed forced his eyes open a tiny bit and gave her a miserable little nod.

She grabbed the nearest bin – it happened to be on the floor just behind her – and held it even with his mouth just as he started to be sick.

"Here it is, sir." One of her hands held the bin in place and the other rubbed his back as he curled up on the bed, heaving. "_Shhh._ It'll be okay, sir."

His head hung over the side and she gently held onto his shoulder, wanting to make sure he wouldn't lose his balance. Reed took a hand off of his stomach, curling up a bit more to compensate for the loss of pressure, and grimaced when he moved his leg. He was a little surprised that moving it hurt more now than it had earlier, but it was far from his main concern at the moment. He gripped the edge of the bed so tightly that his knuckles went white, trying to steady himself as he was sick.

He'd caught sight of one of the diggers on the mission, just before it all went wrong. Armadillo-looking creature... but it felt like the damned thing was still alive in his stomach and crawling around. Last time it had just been nausea and the all too familiar message coming from his body to his brain that there was a mutiny in progress. Now, Reed was getting the distinct impression that not only was the digger crawling around in his stomach, but it wanted out. It wasn't too sure about taking the long way, but it knew that it could leave the same way it had initially come in...

Jean perched on the upper part of his bed, sitting behind him and still holding the bin in her right hand. He'd moved down a little when he curled in on himself, freeing up some space, and she took advantage, switching position so her left hand was rubbing his arm comfortingly and that arm was looped around his shoulders. "I've got you, sir. You won't fall off." He responded by relaxing his hold on the bed slightly.

The vomiting seemed to peter off after less than a minute. Jean expected him to be relieved, like she was, but even after he was done, Reed still held his stomach and looked nauseous. The digger still wanted out. He kept his eyes tightly shut and his face stayed in a pained grimace.

Jean had a feeling that he'd want to rinse away the taste like he'd done before, so she called Cutler to come over. "Liz?"

Cutler started to walk over and was just about to pull the curtain aside when Jean spoke sharply. "Don't look in here! I just need two cups, one full of water and one empty. Just hand them through when you've gotten them ready."

Cutler's silhouette shook her head and the crewman sounded a little put off by Jean's brusqueness. "Of course, doctor."

Jean knew that she should have gotten the water herself, but she didn't want to leave Reed. He still looked miserable and she wasn't sure if he would be sick again. It seemed likely, and even if it didn't happen she wanted to stay where she was, just for moral support. She kept rubbing his arm and hoped it was helping him.

Reed turned his head slightly, curious and wanting to see her but not wanting to show his face. "Why did you ask her to stay outside?"

She just shrugged. "You're embarrassed enough with me here." Jean saw his expression shift slightly and hoped it meant that he appreciated the gesture. "I figured you wouldn't want her to come in, too."

He was about to reply when Liz's outline darkened part of the privacy curtain. "Doctor, your water." Cutler fumbled around trying to hand the cups through, but couldn't find a break in the curtains with both her hands full.

Jean offered Reed a sheepish smile and gave his arm a pat before she got up.

"Thank you, crewman." She walked to a break in the curtain and leaned through, making sure not to give Cutler a view of Reed as she accepted the cups. Jean looked down at the cups and then gave Liz an apologetic smile. "Sorry I was short with you, before."

Liz smiled and made a 'forget about it' motion with her hand. "No hard feelings. When I'm sick, I don't like an audience, either."

Jean grinned at that and looked back over her shoulder, checking Reed's reaction. His face had relaxed a bit and he almost smiled.

_Good. Now he knows that we want to help and that we'll give him some space._ Jean nodded at her. "Thanks, Liz."

She ducked back through the curtains and started to hand Reed the filled cup, but he wouldn't take it. "Sir?"

Reed shook his head a tiny bit, trying not to make himself dizzier. He opened his eyes and gave her a look which could only be described as mournful.

She tilted her head at him, ducking down to be at his eyelevel despite the possible danger. "Sick again?"

He nodded, closing his eyes and pressing his cheek into the faux leather of the bio-bed covering. His face had a distinct green tint. He almost looked like a blushing Vulcan. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but started vomiting again instead.

Just before it started, Jean must have seen something pass over his face because she quickly moved out of the line of fire, put the cups aside, picked up the bin and held it in place for him. She stood beside the bed this time, keeping a firm hold on his left shoulder as he began to shake. This time it only lasted for ten seconds or so, but afterwards Reed felt like he'd been turned inside out, held up by his feet and shaken. He tried to pant quietly as his breathing slowly became regular again.

"_Shhh_. Feeling any better?"

He almost laughed, vaguely noting that she was rubbing his arm. "Not really." He coughed and then swallowed, grimacing at the sick, sour taste.

"Please have the water, sir." She was holding it out to him. Once he was finished being sick, she had put down the bin and reached for the water with her free hand.

He nodded, accepting the filled cup. As soon as he did, she reached for the empty cup, also holding that one out to him. Still lying twisted onto his side with his head slightly raised, it wasn't hard for him to do the next bit. He took a sip of clear liquid, taking the other cup at the same time. After swishing around and spitting out a few mouthfuls, he was satisfied and let his head drop back onto the bed. "Uhhg."

Jean moved away from the biobed, taking the cups from him and dumping them in the nearest sink. When she turned back, he was shivering. The blankets had been disturbed by all the movement and now they were dangling from the bed, half trailing onto the floor. She picked them up, spreading them over him again and nudging his elbow. "Move up in the bed, sir. Just rest your head on the pillow there."

He followed her directions without protest, settling back at the head of the thin, narrow bed, and hissing as he tried not to move his leg. Once he was marginally more comfortable, Reed closed his eyes and took a few deep, calming breaths. He wanted to get back to sleep but was wary of asking Jean to give him something.

Jean rested a hand on his arm, smiling down at him sympathetically. "Try to sleep, sir."

He smiled without opening his eyes. "I'm already working on it, ensign." His stomach churned unpleasantly. _Armadillo escape imminent_. The faint smiled disappeared.

She moved her hand, squeezing one of his hands through the blankets. "Want some help?"

He opened his eyes and just looked at her, blinking suspiciously. It was a strange thing to say, even for her. He licked his lips, a bit apprehensive. "What did you have in mind?" He was still staring at her warily.

She smiled at his unease, apparently amused by it. "Watch."

His knees were raised and she slid a pillow under them, asking him to relax his legs on it. Then one of her hands hovered over his stomach for a second and she looked at him for permission. He nodded, curious.

_Besides, she can't possibly do anything that could make it worse._

Her hand started moving in a circle, applying pressure tentatively at first, then more firmly. Her other hand joined in, and then both of them paused for a few seconds, allowing him to get used to the sensation before they started moving again. The hands circled clockwise, one following the other and moving from the bottom of his rib cage to just above his pelvis. Jean wasn't too sure how he'd react to that, so she proceeded cautiously with the massage. However, about a minute later Reed made a noise.

"_Mmmnnnhhhmm_."

Jean looked over to his face. "Is that a good sound?" There was a smile tugging at her lips, but since his eyes were closed, he didn't see it. He only nodded.

Her smile grew as he seemed to relax, letting himself melt into the bed. After an interminable minute, she asked "It feels good?"

He nodded again, relaxing further into the bio-bed. Just after she'd started the massage, his stomach had calmed down. As a matter of fact, it hadn't bothered him at all since the belly rub started. Reed smiled, relieved.

_Thank god for that_.

He felt himself drifting off to sleep, absently noting, even as he dropped off, how silly it was that he was getting his tummy rubbed.

_Small wonder Porthos enjoys them so much. Hm, maybe that's why the armadillo stopped trying to escape. Guard dog on duty.._.

Jean had barely been doing it for five minutes when she heard a soft snore from the vicinity of Reed's pillow. She grinned, slowing the motion of her hands until they'd stopped, and then withdrawing them. "Good night, sir," she whispered to him, gently passing her hand over his hair, smoothing it in place. He smiled in his sleep at the touch, and she had to bite back a laugh.

_The big tough Lieutenant Reed, terrible ruler of the Armory and fierce protector of away teams, lulled to sleep by a belly rub._ She picked up the dirty bin and stepped back out of the curtains again, thinking.

_Actually, it makes a good deal of sense. He's a guard dog in terms of personality, and even the toughest, meanest, most dangerous guard dog likes getting a belly rub from someone they trust. And I suppose this means that he trusts me_. She smiled to herself, carrying the bin over to the trash chute and removing the plastic liner from it.

_Good, that should help me out when I'm trying to take care of him._

Liz came up and tapped her. "How is he?"

Jean grinned. "Sleeping like a baby. Hard to believe how angelic he looks when he's asleep..."

Liz handed her a new trash liner and threw the dirty one down the chute. She tried to imagine Reed looking angelic, but couldn't quite picture it. "Hard to believe," she agreed. "We're done cleaning everything and putting things away. I was just gonna go get a bite to eat in the mess hall. Care to join me?"

Jean put the new liner in the bin and walked back towards Reed's bed. "I'd love to. Just one sec."

She stepped through the curtains, putting the bin next to the head of his bed, just in case. The beeping monitor caught her attention and she looked up at it, momentarily worried. His vitals were steady and he was still fast asleep. Jean walked to the end of his bed and fondly tapped his still-booted foot. "Night, sir." She resisted a ridiculous urge to call him Fido and stepped out of the curtains again, heading to the open Sickbay doors where Liz was waiting.

"Night, Phlox."

The Denobulan doctor nodded at the two women as they left and then resumed studying a tissue sample taken from Akary's leg. The microcellular decay really was quite fascinating...


	2. Day Two: Sick Call

2

Crew Quarters, B Deck, 1015 hours June 6 2151

Lieutenant Reed was having a disturbing dream. He woke up gradually to see a shadowy figure sitting nearby. He looked around in alarm but couldn't tell where he was; he tried to get up from where he was lying, but he'd barely raised his head before the figure came over. A pair of hands gripped his shoulders and a voice spoke to him gently, trying to calm him and restrain him at the same time. Of course, being restrained only made him more alarmed. He started to tiredly fight the figure off, confused to find that his movements were slow and clumsy, but he stopped struggling the moment he recognized the voice of the person restraining him.

"Easy, sir. Easy…" Jean's tone was gentle but firm, just like her hold on his shoulders. "Sir, I need you to relax. You're safe. You're in your quarters on Enterprise."

His eyes focused while he was looking around the room, trying to confirm that he was in his own quarters. Reassured, he took some slow breaths and the panicked look left his face. After her patient had let his head sink back into his pillow, the hands on his shoulders relaxed their grip and migrated to their owner's lap

"Phlox thought it would be best to let you keep sleeping, so he asked a couple of medics to bring you back here earlier this morning."

Reed was still for a moment before stirring again and trying to push back the covers, which he found to be surprisingly heavy. "I need to be on the bridge..."

She shook her head as her hands returned to his shoulders. "Sir, that isn't possible. You're not well enough to go on duty."

"But I need to be at my post," he insisted, trying to sit up. "I need...*_cough cough_* uhhg ..."

Coughing, coupled with trying to sit up, made him so dizzy that he groaned and had to lie down again, holding his stomach. It wasn't just nausea and fatigue; simply trying to sit up had worn him out so much that even the idea of moving proved to be exhausting.

She shook her head again, this time smoothing the rumpled blankets and drawing them up to cover him better when he started shivering. "You need to _rest_. Thatcher is taking care of the Armory and Hodges is covering tactical, so there's nothing for you to worry about. Just try to get better, sir."

He closed his eyes and nodded, reluctantly agreeing. Based on how awful he felt, he was in no condition to do anything but stay in bed and sleep. He was tired, so tired. And sore. And queasy. And cold. Suddenly, the only thing keeping him awake was a chill so intense that for a brief instant Reed felt as though he had been locked in a meat freezer all night long.

_Perfect. Yesterday I was shot and taken hostage on an alien planet, and now I'm essentially a prisoner in my own quarters. If I managed to get up to look for a warmer blanket I'd probably end up falling down before I got two steps away from my bed._

Burying his face in a pillow and resigning himself to the fact that he'd be miserable no matter what, Reed lay in bed and shivered violently, feeling terrible.

"Would you like another blanket, sir?"

He opened his eyes and looked over at her in surprise. He'd forgotten that she was still there. "Yes, thank you... if it's not too much trouble."

She smiled warmly. "It's no trouble at all, sir. Phlox asked me to look after you, so if you need something please don't hesitate to ask. Umm, where do you keep the extra blankets?"

"In the locker to your left. There should be some in there..." He gestured in the general direction of the locker which stood at the head of his bed.

Jean opened the locker and saw that it was beyond tidy. Everything was accessible in an order that reminded her of her own sock-drawer. She grinned and shook her head, pleasantly surprised by the similarity. _Neat freaks, the two of us_. She found the blankets and spread the warmest-looking one over his bed. "Better?"

He smiled wearily and slowly let his eyes close as the shivers left him. "Yes, thank you."

"Would you like something to eat or drink?"

The thought of food made his stomach lurch unpleasantly and shaking his head in answer made his quarters spin. "I don't think so," he managed, pressing his eyes shut against the dizziness. "Really don't think I could keep anything down at the moment." He swallowed against an awful taste at the back of his mouth. "Not too hungry anyway." His stomach was doing flips now and he prayed that he wouldn't be sick in front of her again. Being sick again seemed inevitable, given how he was feeling, but he didn't need – or want – an audience.

"Maybe some water, then?"

She sounded hopeful and he knew that she was trying to cajole him, but he also knew that he shouldn't put anything in his stomach until it felt less rebellious. He really didn't feel up to an argument, though, and knew that if she insisted he'd end up doing as she asked.

"I'd rather not chance it, Ensign." His voice showed how fatigued he was, so she relented.

"Very well, sir. I'll keep you on the IV fluids for now, but we'll need to wean you off them pretty soon. You should be off them day after tomorrow, at the latest. But if you change your mind..." He nodded, relieved.

She stood back up and fidgeted for a moment before glancing at her med kit. "How's your leg?"

He tried to flex the muscles, winced and gave up. "Sore."

"Mmm. Would you mind if I take a few scans?"

A tired wave of his hand invited her to proceed. "Go ahead."

The medical scanner made a low humming noise and gave off a faint blue glow as it passed over his leg. He watched the blue light travel over the blankets, allowing his sleepy but curious gaze to fall upon the woman holding the scanner.

"Ensign, whose idea was it for you to be here when I woke up?"

She looked up for a moment to meet his eyes. "I thought someone should be here, just to explain what was going on and to see if you needed anything." She went back to studying the scanner readout but kept talking. "Since it was my idea, Phlox thought I should be the one to do it."

They both fell silent and the only sound in the room for a while was the faint tone of the medical scanner.

Soon the scans of the muscle tissues were finished and Jean studied them briefly, relieved to see that his condition had improved since the previous night.

The injury to his leg was healing nicely, thanks to Phlox's Osmotic eel working on it while he slept in Sickbay, and the aftereffects of the radiation were beginning to wear off already. His red cell count was starting to come back to normal, but for some reason his white cell count was also climbing, albeit slowly. She thought that it might be the scanner mistaking the antibiotics for white cells, but she wasn't certain. If the scanner wasn't mistaken it probably meant that he'd developed an infection. If so, the antibiotics he was already on would be starting to take care of it by now. In any case, she decided to look at the injury. If it was infected, there might be visual clues more conclusive than the scanner's readings, and in any case she might need to change his bandage.

"Sir, I need to check the bandage. D'you mind if I lift the covers for a minute or two?"

He grumbled very quietly. "I only just got warm, Ensign."

Her mouth twisted to one side. "I know, sir, and I'm sorry, but I'll try to be quick."

Reed gave a very reluctant nod. He stayed still for a bit, torn between wanting to shut his eyes tight as he tried to brave the cool air about to invade the blankets or keeping his eyes open and watching her. He decided to shut his eyes just as a rush of cold air hit him.

Jean knelt down by his bed, medkit open by her knee in case she needed anything. He was shivering already, which worried her, so she shifted into high gear. The bandage was a few centimeters below the hem of his shorts and it seemed clean. Phlox's Osmotic eel had worked on the wound while Reed slept to cauterize it properly and it had been re-bandaged after, so there was no blood on the gauze. _That's good, at least_.

"I'm lifting one edge up, sir. This may sting."

She carefully peeled back the adhesive and saw that the skin around the sealed wound was a shiny pink and there was some pus on it. _Great_. She scanned it and, sure enough, the wound was slightly infected. Jean took a tube out of her case and used an applicator to spread some antibiotic gel directly on it. It only took a few seconds, and after she smoothed the bandage back into place she stood up with her case. After she had replaced the blankets, she increased the flow of his antibiotic IV and closed the case. All told, the covers had been off of his leg for less than a minute.

"All done, sir."

Still shivering, Reed didn't open his eyes. "Ev-veryth-thing check out all r-right?"

"It looks like there's a slight infection around the wound, but I've put antibiotic gel on it and upped your antibiotic IV. That should take care of it, but I'm going to double check the data I've gathered with Phlox's diagnostic programs. No harm in being thorough, yeah?"

He nodded. "It's a g-good policy in g-general."

She smiled, briefly rubbing one of his arms through the blanket to warm him. "I had a feeling you'd say something like that, sir." His shivers were starting to peter off now.

The infection seemed mild, but she would still check the scans in Sickbay, just to be certain that she hadn't misread the signs. The fact that he was still so cold worried her, but according to the scans he didn't have a fever, which was nothing if not puzzling. She didn't like it when symptoms didn't add up. It tended to give her a headache. Anyway, if his progress over the last fourteen hours was anything to go by, he would probably still be feeling rotten for a few days, so after she put away the scanner she took out a hypospray and administered a dose of medicine. Unlike the IV fluids, this wasn't given drop by drop so it had a more immediate effect.

"This is for the pain and it'll help reduce the nausea, too. I'll come by again this afternoon to check on you, but if you need anything else before then, please comm. me." There was also a sedative in the hypo, but it was a very mild one. It had to be, with the painkillers already in the IV and the hypo, but it was more than strong enough to make sure he'd sleep well for a few hours. She also took the bin from his workstation and put it by the bed, in case he felt sick again and she wasn't there to help him to the bathroom.

As soon as the medicine kicked in and he began to feel better, Reed started to protest. "That really isn't necessary, Ensign. I appreciate your concern, but..."

She cut him off in mid-sentence. "Actually, sir, it is necessary. I'm acting under direct orders from Phlox. You wouldn't want me to disobey my commanding officer, would you?"

He looked mildly annoyed that she'd brought duty into it, knowing that it was her trump card, but he grudgingly agreed. "I suppose not."

She finally let her mouth twitch into a smile. "Then I'll see you in a few hours, sir. Please try to sleep until then."

He nodded in agreement and settled back into the covers, making himself as comfortable as possible before closing his eyes. She was almost at the door when he discovered a wrinkle in his plan to do as she'd recommended; even when he closed his eyes the room was still too bright to allow him to fall asleep.

"Ensign, could you turn off the lights before you leave?" Moments after he asked, the bright starbursts of color behind his eyelids faded away, and he smiled in the comforting darkness.

"Thank you, Ensign," he said softly to the backs of his eyelids as she stepped out the door.


	3. Day Two: Embarassment

3

Crew Quarters, B Deck, 1420 hours, June 6 2151

Originally Jean hadn't planned on going back to check on Reed so soon, but she'd started to have a bad feeling just before lunch. At first she ignored it, thinking it was just her mind playing tricks on her, but as the afternoon wore on, the worry had become more insistent. Finally, at around 2pm, she decided to stop by his quarters.

_He's probably sleeping and you'll just feel silly. Still, no harm in going over there._

She rang the doorbell as soon as she got there, but even though she waited for a full minute, there was no reply. Her worry went up a few notches. She rang again, reasoning that if he was asleep he might not have heard the first ring, but again she heard nothing from inside.

_Something's wrong here_.

After another half minute of silence, she reluctantly used the medical override code to unlock the door. Before the door had opened fully, she caught a faint, sour smell coming from his quarters. The moment she stepped inside, she saw Reed lying sprawled on the floor with a small wet patch on the carpet near his head.

"Oh my God."

His head whipped around to look at her when she spoke, an expression of perfect mortification on his face.

She absently remembered to close the door behind herself before rushing over to him. "What happened?" She knelt by his side, quickly looking him over.

He shrank away slightly when she tried to touch his shoulder, stubbornly refusing to either answer or look at her.

"Sir?" The word was inquisitive, but now her voice had a hurt tone to it.

"Isn't it obvious?" He spat out the words as though they tasted sour, turning to hide his face again. It was bad enough that he'd fallen, but to be found like this? It was a nightmare, pure and simple.

She shook her head, taking out a scanner and running it over him, checking to make sure he hadn't hurt himself when he fell. He hadn't, not significantly, and she let out a relieved breath. He'd just bruised his knees and palms when he'd caught himself, and he was running a mild fever of 99.1°F. The infection from a few hours ago was worse, but it wasn't anything serious. The instruments in Sickbay had confirmed her earlier diagnosis and the higher dose of antibiotics she'd already put him on would take care of it in the next day or two. In the meantime, though, he'd just have to rest and she'd try to make it as tolerable as possible.

"Okay, sir. Let's get you on your feet again."

When he didn't react at all, she tried to take his arm, intending to help him up, but he jerked the limb away from her.

"Just leave me be, Ensign." His voice was low, hoarse. He sounded ashamed, but, much as she knew that he wanted to spend a good deal of time alone, nursing his wounded pride, her primary concern was with taking care of his physical health. She'd deal with his mental health once he was back in bed.

She shook her head. "I can't do that, sir. And I hate to give you an ultimatum, but if you won't cooperate then I'll have to call in the cavalry to get you off the floor. That means more people seeing you like this."

He hid his face against his arm and she felt a stab of guilt. She felt absolutely terrible badgering him like this. It went against all her normal instincts, but she knew that in the long run letting him just lie on the floor indefinitely wasn't to his benefit. She tried putting her hand on his arm again, but this time she didn't manhandle him; she just let her hand rest on his shoulder, wanting to soften what she'd just said. "Sir, neither of us wants that. Please, let me do my job. Let me help you."

He took a long breath, then slowly nodded. It was uncomfortable on the floor and he had gotten out of bed for a reason. His eyes flicked over to the bathroom.

He had been hooked up to a fluid IV which had been keeping him hydrated for almost eighteen hours, and in all that time he hadn't once gone to the bathroom. A short while ago he had woken up to an insistent urge to relieve himself. He briefly considered calling Jean down to help him, but realized that she wouldn't reach his quarters in time to actually be of any assistance, so he would have to get himself to the loo without any help.

It had taken some doing, but he managed to lever himself into a sitting position, although both his stomach and his leg had strongly protested the movement. Afterwards, he had to spend a few minutes just waiting for the walls and the floor to return to their proper locations. As soon as he moved, his quarters had started to spin in a sickening dance and he didn't want to try standing until it stopped. His legs had given him another reason to hesitate. The left one was still very sore – he could barely move it without gritting his teeth and hissing in pain – and he wasn't sure how well he could walk on it, or if he could at all. Even his uninjured leg felt unsteady. Not weak, per se, but he wasn't too sure about putting weight on it, either.

Still, he needed to urinate, and it just wouldn't do for him to 'go' in bed. He wasn't a child, after all, and the mere thought of being reduced to wetting his bed was enough of an impetus to get him on his feet. Before he stood, he detached himself from the IV lines, being careful to remove and clamp off the tubing and cap off the catheter. After what the doctors had said about there being a heightened risk of infection due to his radiation exposure, he didn't want to take any chances. He considered using the IV stand to lean on as he limped to the bathroom, but decided against it. If he fell, he didn't want the medicine to be spilled all over the place.

Soon after, through sheer force of will, he was standing. He was far from steady on his feet and his injured leg was screaming at him to sit down again. Dizzy but undeterred, he took a step toward his goal and then a shorter, limping one. The sudden burst of activity made his breath come more quickly and he shook his head as he realized how much harder this task was than it should have been. His stomach lurched pointedly as he continued on, forcing him to close his eyes momentarily against the rising nausea. When he opened them again, he found that his quarters were swimming around him. Before he could stop it, he stumbled over his feet and the deck rushed up to meet him.

That had been maybe fifteen minutes ago, but he couldn't be sure. It had probably been less. It only seemed long because he'd just lain where he fell, trying to get his breath back, trying to ride out the hot, throbbing pain in his leg, and trying to not be sick on the floor. He had failed on the last count.

Now he just wanted to hole up somewhere private, someplace where no one could see the pitiful state he was in, and stay there until he could go back on duty. More than that, though, he wanted a toilet. Badly.

"Very well, Ensign." He sounded miserable. Beaten. He realized it soon after he spoke, but he didn't know how to take it back, or if he even could.

She awkwardly patted his shoulder, then moved around to his side and crouched down beside him. He'd fallen and landed in something of a jumble, partially twisted onto one side, so when he tried to push himself up he had to straighten himself out first.

He braced his hands and his good knee against the deck, gritting his teeth and praying he wouldn't topple over again, not now that he had an audience. He managed to get into a kneeling position, keeping weight off of his injured leg. When he wobbled a little, threatening to fall over, Jean put her shoulders under his arm and wrapped an arm around his back, holding onto him firmly. She helped to keep him steady and, slowly, haltingly, helped him get to his feet.

Once they were both standing, swaying slightly in place, they took a minute to get their breath back. She kept her hold on his arm, making sure it stayed across her shoulders so she was supporting at least some of his weight, and started to help him walk.

"I don't need your help, Ensign." He ground the words out deliberately, angry and humiliated, and really just wanting to be left alone.

"Respectfully, sir, you really do."

He glared at her and she glared right back, not about to back down. "Sir, I'm not gonna step away and let you fall again just to prove my point, but the fact remains that I _could_. So," she raised her eyebrows slightly, dispelling the glare entirely. "Will you let me help you?"

Reed grit his teeth, knowing that she was right and hating it. _Still_, he reasoned, _she's only been concerned. She hasn't mocked me at all._

_But she still might_, another voice countered. _Do you really want to give her that chance? Of course not. You can do it without her help. You __will__ do it without her help._

He shook her off and started to limp away on his own. She watched, surprised by his stubbornness, but more than that, she was stunned that he was actually _able_ to move without help. However, after just a few steps he wavered, seeming to lose his balance, and without a moment's pause she moved in to steady him.

He was breathing hard when she slipped her arm around his back and pulled his arm across her shoulders. Despite his ego's protests, he leaned on her heavily, trying to take some of the strain off of his bad leg and waiting, yet again, for the room to stop revolving.

"Sir, please."

Once he'd cleared his face of the pain and embarrassment, he turned to look at her.

_She's just worried and she wants to help. And you __do__ need her help, there's no question of that now, so let her! You were worried she'd tease you; she hasn't. You didn't want her to see you like this, well, that ship sailed. She's been nothing but professional and you're acting like a child. If you want to salvage your dignity, stop fighting her._

She watched him very closely and saw his tiny nod of assent. "okay, sir. Lets get you back to bed."

_Damn._ "Actually, Ensign, I..." He shot a quick look at the bathroom.

"Oh, um, okay," she nodded her understanding, embarrassed that she hadn't realized where he'd been trying to go this whole time. "We'll just get you to the bathroom, then." She studied him for a reaction, but saw none.

They covered the few meters to the bathroom door in relative silence. Once at the door, there was an awkward pause while Jean tried to figure out a feasible way to help Reed without making him die of embarrassment. He hesitated a bit, looking to her for some cue. When none came, he triggered the door open and started inside, forcing her to follow. To actually get through the doorway they had to turn sideways, and while they were doing that, the sink caught her eye. It was fairly close to the toilet; the distance between them could be covered in two or three steps, so she took point and headed towards it with Reed.

Once they'd reached the sink, Reed leaned against it, supporting his own weight and making it possible for her to step away. He realized her plan and nodded his understanding. "I'll be okay from here, ensign."

Jean nodded back. "I'll just, umm... wait outside, then. Tell me when you're done?" She felt awkward saying it.

_Nearly as awkward as he must feel, needing my help to get to and from his own bathroom._

When Reed didn't respond, she removed herself from his arm and left him to stand on his own, hesitating for a moment by the door, just to be certain he wouldn't fall without her support. He looked back at her over his shoulder, seeming vaguely annoyed that the door hadn't closed yet, and she quickly exited, shutting the door behind herself.

Outside, Jean faced an unexpected problem. She could hear what was going on in the bathroom and she didn't particularly want to. As a doctor she wasn't squeamish, but she didn't like to listen in on people. Besides, she knew that Reed neither needed nor wanted an audience.

_I need to find a distraction, is what I need to do. Well, there is that mess on the floor. I could take care of that in the meantime..._

Inside, Reed leaned on the sink for as long as he could, then took a wobbling, unsupported step towards the toilet. In his entire life, Reed didn't think he had ever been so glad to see a porcelain bowl. He couldn't stand up for long, not without support, so he quickly dropped his pants and then leaned one hand on the rear tank while his other hand took proper aim. Reed sighed as the pressure on his bladder quickly diminished to nil. Once he was done, he cleaned himself up with toilet paper and pulled his pants up again. It was strange, but he didn't remember ever getting out of his uniform and into the civvies he was currently wearing. He'd woken up in these clothes this morning, so he must have left Sickbay wearing them...

Reed continued trying to puzzle this out as he took a staggering step back to where he could lean on the sink again. It was a good distraction and good exercise for his mind. _Phlox and his minions may have undressed me while I slept and then re-dressed me in these clothes_.

He cringed at the thought of the Denobulan and the two women doing that without his permission. He washed his hands quickly, at first refusing to lean his elbows on the sink edge for support, which meant that he was standing on his own still-unsteady legs. He finally caved after a few interminable seconds, grabbing a towel and leaning on the counter, panting from the exertion of staying upright for so long. He hung his head, dizzy and still feeling sick. His leg hurt like anything, his heart was beating a mile a minute, and he felt just about ready to drop.

And then his stomach gurgled. _Oh god, please no_. He knew that feeling. He shuffled back to the toilet quick as he could, almost falling on the way, and tore down his shorts so they fell around his ankles. He sat himself down on the toilet and balled his hands into fists, knowing that the next bit would not be pleasant. He rested his head on one forearm, gritting his teeth and making a small, angry noise of protest as the diarrhea started.

Nearly fifteen minutes later, Reed called out in a tired voice. "I'm done, Ensign."

She triggered the door open and stepped through, but when she saw him, she nearly stopped dead in her tracks. He was leaning heavily on the sink, pale, sweaty and looking haggard. It seemed like all of the life had been wrung out of him.

"Jesus."

She rushed over to him, looping his arm over her shoulders and wrapping an arm firmly around his waist. He didn't fight her at all, this time. He just wanted to get back to bed and sleep. She couldn't help noticing, though, that his hands, especially the one with the IV catheter in it, were immaculately clean. _He washed. Good lad_. When they brought him back early that morning, she had put antibacterial soap in his bathroom as an extra precaution against infection.

She had heard some very low, muffled, pained noises coming from the bathroom for a while, but aside from taking note of them as they might pertain to treating him for the radiation poisoning, she'd tried to ignore the sounds. She knew it was likely that he had passed some of the radioactive food, but knowing that didn't change much. She would crank up the saline, glucose and electrolyte solutions once he was hooked up to the IV again, just to replenish what he had lost, but aside from that the treatment wouldn't be affected.

Jean squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, flashing him a quick smile. "Lets get you back to bed, sir."

He nodded, but didn't look at her. He was far too embarrassed to handle eye contact. "Lets."

His voice was tired and he sounded hoarse, too, like he'd been crying out in pain. He had muffled the sounds against his arm, not wanting her to hear. Reed thanked his lucky stars that she chose not to comment on any of it: how he sounded, or looked, or how much slower he was moving now. He was sore all over and he just wanted to sleep, possibly with some drugs to make sure he dropped off promptly.

She guided him out of the bathroom, and he was mildly surprised to notice that the small puddle of his sick had been cleaned away.

_Must thank her for that, when I'm no longer too ashamed to speak. I can't walk, can hardly get to the loo without help, certainly can't keep anything down... I'm a right old mess. I shouldn't even be here..._

He shook his head, closing his eyes to fight off the wave of nausea caused by the movement. They took a few halting steps and slowed down significantly when he grimaced, gingerly pressing his free hand to the side of his leg. It hurt much more badly now than it had when he'd been lying on the floor. Even sitting on the toilet had been a welcome respite from trying to walk or stand. He'd stayed on the seat for a while after he was sure that his intestines were done tormenting him, just trying to talk himself into standing up again. Uncomfortable as the toilet seat was, and much as he wanted to get back to bed and back to the IVs which almost miraculously made him feel better, he just had to sit and rest his leg for an extra few minutes.

Down on the planet when Phlox had first treated him, the doctor had said _"he can walk, more or less,"_ but right now, with how his leg was pounding, Reed felt that the "less" side of that equation definitely applied. He tentatively touched his leg and grit his teeth a second later, his face screwing up in pain as he tried not to groan.

"Sir?"

He reluctantly tugged his eyes open to look at her. _Are you okay?_

The rest of the question remained unsaid, but it was plain enough on her face. He nodded slightly, not wanting to provoke his stomach, but then he twisted away from her, nearly falling in the process when his leg buckled.

"Sir? What is..." she was interrupted by the sound of retching.

Reed had doubled over and was leaning his shoulder heavily against the wall. He didn't seem to be in danger of falling, so Jean stepped away, grabbed the trash bin from next to his bed and held it in front of him. His eyes were closed, so she guided the bin into his left hand. She pulled his free arm over her shoulders and then wrapped her arm around his back again, helping him stay upright. He hugged the bin tightly to himself as he coughed and gagged, but nothing went into it. That is to say, he kept shaking with dry heaves for nearly a minute before it passed. When it was over, he let his head hang forward and tried to catch his breath again.

Jean held on to him the whole time, feeling frustratingly useless. She could help him by giving him medicine once they were at the bed again, but there wasn't anything she could do at that moment aside from keeping him steady and soothing him meaninglessly.

"It's okay, sir. It's okay."

The words sounded hollow to both of them, and at first they only served to remind Reed that she'd just been privy to a truly embarrassing show of weakness. After a little while, though, a small part of him became less embarrassed. There was no mocking, no criticizing, no revulsion. Just friendly support. He tightened his arm around her shoulders, suddenly grateful that she was there.

When it was over and he was trying to get his breath back, he let go of the bin, pushing it as far out of the way as possible. He didn't want to be anywhere near it, much as he might need it later on. Jean put it by the bed again, leaning slightly away from the wall to do so. She noticed that Reed followed her when she moved, making no real effort to hold himself up and instead resting his side against her. His breathing was still somewhat ragged, so she rubbed his back, trying to soothe him. He leaned against her a little bit more, bracing his free hand on the wall in preparation for standing up again.

A minute passed, and another with them sitting there. When the sound of his breathing evened out, she looked over at his face. Sweat was beaded thickly on his forehead, and she was willing to bet that his fever had climbed at least a degree since the last time she scanned him. _He's gonna need serious rest until he's kicked this bug._

"Sir, are you ready?"

He answered with a slow nod, looking past her and over at his bed longingly.

She offered a fleeting but sympathetic half smile, squeezing his shoulder comfortingly. "Don't worry, sir. You can lie down soon."

He raised his eyebrows slightly. _Get out of my head, ensign_.

They struggled to stand up again, and after a couple of scares – they almost overbalanced into the locker – he was back on his feet. They moved toward the bed slowly, covering the remaining few meters in silence.

Reed's leg burned, pounded, screamed at him to sit down, and he finally let out a tired, frustrated breath. "I shouldn't have left Sickbay so soon."

They were the first words he'd spoken since coming out of the bathroom, but what made them interesting was the fact that she'd been thinking the same thing. "How do you mean?" she asked carefully.

"Well, I... " he took a step and suppressed a wince, drawing in a sharp breath before continuing. "If I need you to baby-sit me, if I can't walk across my quarters without help, it seems I shouldn't have been released just yet."

She guided him back to the bed, sitting him down near the pillow and fidgeting slightly, trying to buy time to think of a response. _He has a point and we both know it, so what can I say?_

The silence stretched, Reed waiting for a response and Jean trying to think of one. Finally, she decided that honesty was the best choice. "It does look that way."

He turned to her, his eyes going wide. He'd expected her to argue with him and was more than a little surprised that she wasn't doing it. Now he looked past her, starting to worry about the implications of what she had just said.

"Of course..."

He glanced back at her, catching a thoughtful, if slightly mischievous, look on her face. Seeing that expression made him nervous. "Of course what?"

Jean raised her eyebrows at him, mildly amused by how anxious he suddenly was, but she shook off her amusement after a moment, wanting to reassure him. She realized that her arm was still around Reed's back, even though he'd dropped his arm from her shoulders once they sat down. She removed her arm in the hopes that doing so would make him more comfortable. She thought it might, knowing how seriously he took the policy on fraternization, but at the same time she gave in to an impulse to touch his hand.

"Just," she shook her head. "You may be right, but you're here now, in any case. It may not be Sickbay, but I can still take care of you here." She stopped suddenly, and he was confused to see a penitent look on her face.

"What is it, Ensign?" Now he was beyond nervous. _God, what isn't she telling me?_

She shook her head again. "It's my fault this happened." She looked over at him, but then looked away again. Seeing how much worse he was doing now than he'd been this morning, despite the four hours of sleep, made her feel terribly guilty.

Reed turned a bit, trying to get a better look at her, but stopped moving when his quarters began to twirl again. He froze, breathing shallowly, and when a few seconds passed uneventfully he chanced the question. "What do you mean, ensign? It's not your fault I was injured, and I can hardly blame you for the fact that I'm unwell. Unless, of course, you caused the comet collision seventy years ago."

She looked up at him briefly, smiling at his attempted joke. While he'd been talking, she'd un-capped the catheter in his hand and was currently un-clamping and re-attaching the IV lines. "As a matter of fact, the Doctor, Rose, and I were playing a sort of comet soccer on Raxycoricophelapitorious a while back and I used an energy bat to hit one of them this way."

Reed grinned. Couldn't help himself. She'd steered the conversation in a more comfortable direction and done it by referencing a good old British TV show. "I don't suppose you were playing against the Slytheen. And don't you mean football?"

She glanced up again, grinning too. "Of course not, sir. Most of the Slytheen died in the explosion at ten Downing street, and the only survivor was turned into an egg." She checked the IV lines, resuming the various drips at the proper speeds. "And on my side of the pond it's called soccer to differentiate it from the game where no one touches the ball with their feet."

He watched her work, hoping that the drugs would take effect soon. "Ah. But I still don't follow. How is it your fault?"

She fidgeted, wishing there was some other little task that needed doing, something to take her mind off what she had to say. "Here," she stood up, trying to do her job properly and make up for how she had botched it so far. "You should lie down, sir."

He nodded, eyes closed, and part of his mind registered that his leg and stomach weren't bothering him as much anymore.

_The medications must be working_.

He turned in his seat on the bed, carefully lifting his bad leg onto the mattress before Jean guided him to lie down. He sighed into the pillows, allowing the softness of the bed to cushion him as he settled in. Jean gently tugged the blankets out from under his calves, not wanting to jostle his hurt leg. Once the covers and sheets were free, she pulled them up to his chin, adding another blanket to the foot of his bed just in case. She would have unfolded it if he wasn't sweating so much.

Reed moved his head on the pillow, fidgeting when a couple beads of sweat ran down from his forehead. They dripped over his temples and crept back into his hair, finally wetting the pillow.

_Why am I so warm?_ "I still don't understand. How on earth is it your fault? You..."

"I left you alone! It's my job to look after you and I must've done a great job, 'cause patients are supposed to wind up on the floor, trying to get to the bathroom." She grabbed his desk chair and pulled it over to the side of his bed, sitting down in it. Her knee was bouncing in agitation, and she was obviously steamed.

He closed his eyes, feeling better as the IVs started to really kick in. It was interesting that she was taking this so hard, and if the lovely anesthetics were less effective he would've been more self-conscious and quicker to reassure her. As it was, though, he was just happy to be in bed and medicated again. Everything else was a secondary concern. "I'm sure you had other things to do, Ensign."

She poked him in the shoulder, wanting him to look at her. "I'm a doctor and your friend, sir. My only concern should be looking after you. Plus, as you pointed out, it's looking like you were released from Sickbay prematurely." She leaned back in the chair, crossing her arms and looking uncomfortable, "which, by the way, was my brilliant idea. Since I did that, removed you from where help was readily available, I should've stayed just in case you needed something. Instead I left you to take care of yourself."

Jean shook her head. _And that didn't exactly work out well_.

His eyes had closed again. She took the opportunity to lean away, reaching for the IV stand. She increased the flow of the saline and the glucose/electrolyte drip, then let her hand drop back to her knee. It slowly migrated into her pocket, where it found the scanner. She switched on the device and waved it over him. Sure enough, his temperature was up more than a degree, a worrying 101.1°F.

He licked his lips. His mouth was horribly dry, as were his lips, but he wasn't exactly thirsty. Jean noticed and tilted her head very slightly. "Sir, would you like to wet your mouth?"

He shook his head slightly, wary of making himself dizzy again, and felt a few drops of sweat slide off of his skin at the small movement. He didn't want to be sick again. He was sweating and still cold, despite the warm blankets, and becoming worried.

"I don't mean to drink, sir. You'd spit it out after, if you wanted. Just have a sip or two to stop your mouth from drying out."

He furrowed his brow, lifting a hand and pushing back the blankets. He was roasting! A second later he pulled them back into place, shivering badly. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to calm his breathing and think rationally.

_She's a doctor, she should know..._ "Ensign, what's going on?"

He sounded young and confused, and more than a little unsettled. She put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You have an infection, sir. It's given you a fever but I'm treating you with antibiotics. It'll be taken care of by this time tomorrow, at the latest."

He nodded, wiping at his brow with the back of his unencumbered hand. "And judging by what you were just saying about responsibility, I assume you're planning on staying until then?"

She smiled softly. "Yes sir, until after your fever breaks and for most of tomorrow, too. I'll probably duck out briefly to get supplies or food for myself, but other than that, I'm staying."

Reed frowned, feeling uncomfortable but also oddly reassured. He wasn't certain that he wanted her to stay for such an extended period of time, but he was glad that she would be around. He didn't want to be alone when he felt like this.

He wiped at his forehead again, drying his hand off on the sheets afterward. Jean watched him, shaking her head, and then she stood up. "Well, sir, it's about time I started looking after you properly."

His hand stopped in mid-wipe and he stared at her. "What exactly do you plan on doing?" He licked his lips again, momentarily breaking eye contact.

Jean patted his shoulder. "For one thing, I'm gonna get a clean washcloth to help cool you off and some water so you can wet your mouth." He started to protest about the water, but she cut him off, shaking her head at him sternly. "No. Sir, I won't do anything that might make you sick again. okay? You need to know that. I just want you to swish around a mouthful or two, stop you from drying out. I promise, you'll feel much better for it."

Reed shook his head. "But Ensign, I-"

She cut him off again, walking into the bathroom to get things ready. "I don't care, sir. You're having this water, and if I have to sit on you to get you to have it, that's what I'll do." The door stayed open so he could hear every word.

He swallowed, or tried to. His mouth had already been dry, but after her little speech it was almost dusty.

_Fair enough, I need the water, but what the hell have I got myself into? If she's going to be like this I'd rather be on my own._

Reed closed his eyes, hoping that she was just kidding and it was an empty threat. He was so very, indescribably tired and he just didn't want to fight. He didn't have nearly enough strength or energy for it. "I thought doctors were supposed to be kind and caring. What happened to that?"

She was standing by his sink, but she stopped fussing and closed her eyes after he spoke. He hadn't meant it as an insult, she knew that, but it still brought her up short. He was right. He didn't deserve her impatience. _The poor guy is sick and you're being mean to him. Great job._ She hung her head a little, more than slightly ashamed.

She came back into the main part of his quarters and slowly walked over to his bed, stopping about a meter away. Reed lifted his head and looked at her warily. The mistrust and apprehension in his eyes hit her like a stack of bricks. _I'm so sorry. He's my friend and I'm just not acting like it. I need to stop fucking this up_. She fidgeted, wanting to go closer to apologize but afraid he wouldn't react well to that.

"You're right, sir. I should be sympathetic and trying to help, not flippant and threatening you," she looked up at him, smiling weakly. "Even if the threat is just a stupid joke. It was completely inappropriate and I apologize." One side of her mouth twitched into a hopeful smile before she looked down at the deck.

Reed relaxed again, relieved. "Thank you for your apology, Ensign."

Jean nodded, also relaxing, but not as much. She was still looking down at the deck and still shamefaced. "If you'd prefer, sir, I could ask Crewman Cutler to look after you until you're able to return to duty."

He looked over at her quickly, not sure whether she was just kidding again. He was surprised to see that she had put the water aside and her expression was serious enough to make him worry.

"No, Ensign." Reed almost smiled at the absurdity of it. He hadn't wanted her to stay and now he didn't want her to go. Cutler was okay; a capable medic and a good scientist, but he wasn't friends with her. They didn't have a history. There were a million reasons why he couldn't be as relaxed with Cutler, but they all amounted to the same thing... she wasn't Jean.

When he looked up at her again, he saw how upset she was. He shook his head, glad that now he could do that without becoming dizzy. "It was only a joke, ensign. Hardly a hanging offence." He wanted to smile at her, to reassure her, but suddenly he felt lightheaded and his eyes dropped shut.

"Sir, please lie back." Her voice was closer now and her hands were on his shoulders, gently but firmly guiding him towards the pillows. He didn't fight, just took a few deep breaths once he was comfortable again.

"Is that better?"

He nodded, blinking his eyes open. "What just happened?"

She took out the scanner and read it, frowning. "Your temperature is up to 102°F. Sir, I..."

If Reed didn't know her better, he would have sworn that she was about to cry. _She's blaming herself_. "It's okay, Ensign." He smiled at her, trying to be reassuring. "I seriously doubt that a joke in poor taste could cause my temperature to rise. It isn't your fault."

She shook her head. "Stress can cause it, sir, but... I'm sorry. Just..." she looked away from him and down at the deck again. "I'm not as mature as I should be."

He smiled a little. _That's an understatement_. "So I've noticed, but I'd still rather have you looking after me than Cutler."

She grinned cautiously. The fact that he wanted her to stay made most of her guilt disappear, but she still wasn't sure that things were okay between them. "Does that mean you'll have the water?"

He closed his eyes, biting back a groan. _I have a feeling this is how it'll be for the next few days. Incessant, jocular mothering_. "Yes, Ensign."

"Thank you, sir."

He heard her get up and walk towards the bathroom again, but then her footsteps stopped. "Sir?"

Reed opened his eyes, uncertain of what he'd see. Jean was standing just at the bathroom door and biting her lip, looking serious. "I am sorry, sir, and I'll try to do better, but I can't promise that it won't happen again."

His head pressed deeper into the pillow and his eyes closed. "I appreciate your honesty, Ensign."

He heard her go in and heard the water come on. A minute or so later she came back from the bathroom, a dry cloth and small bowl in one hand, two nested cups in the other. After setting everything else aside, she sat down by the bed and started to wipe off his face with the washcloth. Reed turned away from her hand, not sure he wanted her to be doing something so... intimate? Personal? He wasn't sure why, but he didn't want her to be drying his face.

"Hold still."

He instinctively responded to the sternness in her voice, turning back to her and freezing in place. She sighed impatiently. "Sir, please try to relax into the pillow. You don't have to be at attention or anything, just... try not to jerk away. Can you do that for me?"

Reed nodded, letting his muscles go lax and sinking into the mattress. He was enjoying the feeling of being supported by the pillows and the bed when he felt the cloth gently dabbing sweat from his face. His eyes slowly came open. He saw that Jean's eyebrows were pulled into a thoughtful frown, and he started worrying right away.

"Ensign, what is it?"

She noticed his expression and shook her head, wanting to reassure him. "It's nothing, sir, really."

He had a feeling there was something to it, though, and kept looking at her with worry in his eyes. She dropped the cloth for a moment, sighing. Sometimes it was annoying that he could read her so well. She shook her head and resumed drying his face, softly patting at his cheeks and then, momentarily, pressing the cloth to his forehead. "I just don't like the fact that you're sick."

The worry evaporated instantly, but he frowned all the same. _She shouldn't care this much. It's unprofessional_.

Still, though, he liked that she cared. Or a part of him did. He let out a deep breath, wrestling with himself. He didn't want to enjoy this. He would almost rather be arguing with Phlox than allowing a female subordinate to fuss over him. At least with Phlox he knew where the lines were drawn; what was appropriate and what wasn't, but with Jean he was lost in the gray areas.

"I'm not certain you should be doing this, Ensign." The protest came out more quietly than he'd planned. The soft touch of the cloth was soothing, somehow, and he found it difficult to argue with the person who was holding it.

"Oh? Why not?"

His face was dry now, so she dipped the cloth into the small bowl of cool water. She wrung it out and carefully put the damp compress on his forehead, her mouth quirking into a satisfied smile when he made a quiet sound of enjoyment.

"I'm a doctor, you're my patient. You have a fever which is making you uncomfortable and I'm trying to bring your temperature down."

Reed knew better, though. She was his friend and this was fraternizing. He frowned.

"Sir, do you remember the last time I did this?"

He looked puzzled. His eyes followed her hand as she reached up to remove the cloth. It wasn't wet enough and it had started to dry, so she took it from his forehead and submerged it in the bowl of cool water. _She's never done this before. What's she talking abou..._

Recognition dawned. "Survival training?" His voice was a little rough and he closed his eyes, tired again. _This fever and everything_... he didn't finish the thought. His skin prickled, his body felt sore and heavy, he was cold, then hot and sweating up a storm, but all he wanted to do was sleep. _At least my stomach and my leg are behaving._

"Yes, sir. That was the first time I took care of you. It wasn't inappropriate then and it isn't now." She squeezed excess moisture from the cloth and carefully put it back on his forehead. "There," she pulled it to one side, making sure it was even on his brow. "That's better, isn't it?"

Reed smiled despite himself, a relieved sigh escaping his lips at the cool touch. "Yes, it is." He licked his lips, trying to wet them with his parched tongue.

She furrowed her brow. "Sir, will you wet your mouth?"

He looked up to the ceiling, letting out an impatient sigh and muttering "I suppose you won't give me any peace until I do."

His eyes flicked over to her for a reaction and he caught her grinning. "You suppose correctly, sir." She held out the cup to him. A bendy straw was leaning against one side of the rim, ready and waiting for him. He started to struggle up onto his elbows, meaning to sit up, but she let out a frustrated sigh and put a hand on his chest, gently preventing him from leaving the pillows.

"No, sir. I'll be holding it for you. Just lie back and relax, okay?"

He closed his eyes tiredly. Lying back and relaxing was all his body wanted to do, but not being able to do something so simple on his own seriously hurt his pride. The fact that she could stop him from getting up with just one hand did nothing to help his ego, either. "If I'm not swallowing it, where am I supposed to spit it out?" He couldn't sit up, but he could at least criticize her lack of planning.

She held out another cup, handing that one to him. "In here, sir."

He nodded, still seeming deeply skeptical. "And how will I reach the cup?"

"Like this, sir." She gently eased her free hand under his head and raised it until he could get at the straw.

_So much for criticism_.

She held out the cup and guided the straw between his lips. He accepted it, taking a few small sips. He didn't plan on swallowing the water but it happened before he could think about it. He was thirsty, despite the saline drip which was supposedly keeping him hydrated. He drank a little more, closing his eyes as the cool, refreshing liquid flowed down his throat. The whole time he was very aware of the fact that she was holding his head up, mainly because the cool cloth started sliding off of his forehead.

"Damn." He looked up at her curiously when she said it. Also, he hoped that he might be able to hold the cloth in place or slow its progress by keeping his eyebrows raised. It worked, but not very well.

She smiled nervously. "Sorry, sir. I'll fix it once you're done with the water."

He nodded a tiny bit and tried to discreetly spit out a large mouthful of water. His mouth was feeling better now that he'd wet it and he grudgingly admitted, at least to himself, that Jean did in fact know what she was doing. If she was so knowledgeable, though, maybe he could ask her about...

"Ensign, is there any chance that you might know what happened to my uniform?"

Jean seemed a little surprised by the question, raising her eyebrows and giving him a thoughtful look before answering. "Well, sir, SOP for radiation cases is to dispose of the patient's clothes. Phlox mentioned this morning that he'd taken care of your uniform during the night, and that he'd given you fresh civvies to wear. Since you were wearing them, I just assumed you knew."

He swallowed the last bit of water, slightly unnerved by the information. He didn't recall anything happening between when Jean helped him fall asleep in Sickbay and when he woke up in his quarters, and the idea of such a lapse in memory made him nervous. "Are you sure, Ensign? Because I don't remember putting on these clothes, or taking off my uniform, for that matter."

She put the empty cup aside, shrugging one shoulder before slowly lowering his head back to the pillow again. Jean slid her hand out from under his head and picked up the cloth which had slipped off of his forehead. It had dried out a little, so she decided to re-wet it before putting it back on his brow. "Well, sir, you might not remember if you weren't fully awake at the time."

Reed watched her with tired eyes, holding out the other cup to her. His hand was shaking a little bit and his fingers were quickly getting tired, and he didn't relish the thought of spilling the contents of the cup all over himself. "Ensign," Jean noticed his outstretched hand and paused in mid-step. She smiled at him, coming back over. "Sorry. I'll get rid of that for you, sir." She took the other cup from him and went to his bathroom, dumping the contents down the sink.

Reed shifted position slightly, trying to get more comfortable without aggravating his stomach or leg. His head sank deeper into the pillow and he let his eyes drift closed, only half listening to the sounds of Jean moving around in the bathroom. Fairly soon, her footsteps came back towards the bed, but he didn't open his eyes. He still wasn't all that comfortable with her being in his quarters, but he was too tired to keep watching her every minute. After all, he trusted her enough to let her stay. The next thing he knew, the cool cloth was back in place on his forehead, and a few seconds later, he heard the soft hum of her medical scanner.

"Does that feel okay?"

He kept his eyes closed but nodded a little, being careful not to dislodge the cloth. "It does. Thank you, Ensign."

Jean smiled to herself, quietly amused. _He's polite to a fault._ "You're welcome, sir."

She stood by the bed, feeling a little awkward. If she was going to be staying with him for a day or more, she would need to find ways to amuse herself. After all, he would be sleeping most of the time, and she didn't really feel like spending hours staring at a wall. Of course, her diversions would have to be quiet, so she wouldn't disturb him, and there were plenty of little things that would need doing, it was just a question of finding those tasks. She caught a glimpse of one of his cups out of the corner of her eye and perked up.

"Sir, would you like something to drink?"

Reed's stomach gurgled and he frowned. The few sips of water he had had when he was wetting his mouth didn't seem to be disagreeing with him, but he didn't want to take any chances. "No thank you, ensign. Maybe in a few hours."

Jean nodded, pulling his desk chair over closer to the bed. She sat down, tilting her head slightly to one side and giving him a sympathetic look. "Of course, sir. Wouldn't want you to be sick again."

Eyes still closed, he grimaced, muttering to himself. "Being sick in front of you four times is more than enough."

Jean looked up at the ceiling, thinking. "Yeah, but I'm not sure that last one counts, though."

His eyes snapped open, mortified that she had heard him. Being sick in front of someone was bad enough, in his estimation. Casually discussing it afterwards was beyond embarrassing and simply not done. He would much rather pretend that the whole nasty business had never happened.

When she looked back at him and saw how uneasy he had suddenly become, she shook her head, patting his arm reassuringly and giving him a gentle smile. "And there's nothing wrong with that, sir. It's not a sign of weakness, or a sign of anything, really. You have radiation poisoning from eating irradiated food and from half a day in an irradiated environment. Not to mention the fact that the bullet I pulled out of your leg had trace readings of radiation, too. Of course you're gonna be sick. It's what happens, but there's no reflection on you, sir."

Reed furrowed his brow, accidentally making the cloth slide off his forehead. "Oh, I'm sorry..." Jean re-wet the cloth and put it back, smiling patiently at him as he stuttered.

"Well, I... What I mean to say..." His ears were hot and he was blushing a little. _Thank god she didn't turn the lights up again!_

It was still dark enough in his quarters that he felt reasonably confident that she could only hear – and not see – how flustered he was. "Are you sure that I... I mean, that you don't-"

She pulled up the covers, smiling fondly at her patient as he fidgeted uneasily. She shook her head, still smiling. _Why are insecure guys so cute?_ "Really, sir, there's absolutely nothing for you to be embarrassed about. I don't think less of you for it, and no one else would, either. Of course, no one else will know any details. Doctor patient privilege."

He relaxed slightly before she fixed his pillow. Jean rested a hand on his shoulder and gave him a gentle squeeze, trying to get his attention. When he did look at her, she almost melted. He could barely keep his eyes open, but he was obviously distressed by his slip of the tongue, and it didn't seem like any of what she had said had helped to relax him. He looked so upset that she wanted to give him a hug, but, of course, she knew doing that would only make him more uncomfortable.

Instead, she gave his shoulder another squeeze. "Just sleep, sir. It's the best thing you can do right now. Your fever's already gone down a little, so you should be more comfortable, but if you need anything – water, anesthetic, help getting to the head, anything – I'll be right here or on the couch. Just ask."

Reed nodded his assent, lightly biting the inside of his lip. There was no way for her to understand his embarrassment, but it helped that she was at least sympathetic to it. The physical contact seemed to help, too, somehow. It let him know that she really didn't mind being there, even during her off hours. He relaxed slightly, letting himself get more comfortable.

Her hand stayed on his shoulder for a while, only leaving to re-wet the compress when it dried out. At one point, he noticed that she was reading something on a PADD. As he was starting to drift off to sleep, the hand moved a little bit. Curious, he opened one eye. He saw her lean away, turning the lights down further before she settled into his desk chair. She was holding the PADD in her other hand and the blue glow from its screen softly illuminated her face. Jean must have felt his eyes on her, because she looked at him. It was hard to tell in the dark, and harder because she'd put the PADD aside to look at him, but he was almost sure that she smiled.

"Sleep well, sir."

He nodded into his pillow, giving her a half-asleep smile. "Thanks, Ensign."


	4. Day Three: Understanding

4

Crew Quarters, B Deck, 0750 hours, June 7 2151

His fever broke late in the evening and she catnapped on his couch for the rest of that night, scanning him every hour or so and checking his IVs but not waking him up. The next morning, shortly after he woke up he noticed how tired she looked and he asked her whether she had been up all night.

She just replied, "yes sir."

He shifted in the bed a little, not comfortable with the idea of someone going to those lengths in the course of looking after him. He asked her, hopefully, whether she'd gotten any sleep.

She shook her head, shrugging. "Not really, sir."

He fidgeted again and she smirked, obviously amused by his discomfort. "I don't mind, sir. Of course, it means that you'll have to suffer through me today."

He was still sick so she normally wouldn't have given him a hard time, but going without any sleep tended to change her behavior from the norm.

Reed blinked up at her, confusion plain on his face. He didn't understand what she had just said or her sudden change in attitude towards him. She had been kind and attentive and, yes, a little pushy, but he wasn't hating being looked after as much as he'd thought he would. The bottom line was that she made him feel better. At least, she had been until just then. "What do you mean, Ensign?"

Her eyes sparkled evilly and she bounced on her heels. _Funny, it doesn't seem like she's been up all night. Seems more like she had too much coffee_.

He was starting to get uneasy and she hadn't answered his question. "Ensign?"

She started and then shook her head. "Hmm? Oh, sorry." She noticed his unease and sat down on the edge of his bed. She'd been doing that more often simply because it was easier to scan him and adjust his medications that way. He wasn't too comfortable with it at first, but after she'd rolled her eyes and assured him that her intentions were strictly honorable, he'd gotten used to the idea.

"Well, sir, after I stay up all night I'm usually very silly for an hour or two. I tend to irritate whoever I'm with for quite a while after that, and since I'm staying with you..."

He nodded, suddenly understanding why she'd said that he'd have to suffer through her. "Ah. Maybe," he shifted in the bed, certain that he didn't want to deal with a hyperactive Jean when he felt so tired and sick. He didn't even want to be sitting up, and if Little Miss Energy was going to be zipping around his quarters, he might be tempted to strangle himself with an IV line.

"Maybe you could get yourself some breakfast or..." he trailed off, out of ideas.

She smirked, seeing right through the ploy. "Or I could go annoy someone else." She didn't seem offended, though. In fact she seemed to find the whole thing comical and started laughing to herself, sounding crazier with each giggle.

Reed's eyes went wide. _And she's looking after me. Heaven help me._

The giggles started to peter off and she took a deep breath, trying to square her shoulders. "Okay," she nodded. "I could do that. Coffee will help me to be more sane."

He relaxed visibly, sinking back into the pillow. "Thank you, Ensign." His eyes closed and he allowed himself a tiny bit of satisfaction. _Crisis averted_.

"I'll, um just go grab a quick breakfast then, sir." She gave him a lopsided grin. "I'm guessing you don't want me to bring you anything?"

Reed swallowed hard and then looked steadily at her with half-closed eyes. "You guess correctly, Ensign." His stomach gurgled, emphasizing the point, and he held back a groan. He wasn't really nauseous, though. His stomach hurt and he certainly wasn't hungry, but it didn't feel like he was going to be sick. Rather, his muscles were cramping painfully, and he had a moment of horror as a new sensation joined the mix.

"Umm, Ensign... " He licked his lips nervously and she looked at him quickly. _I wish she'd stop hovering so close_. "Could you help me to the bathroom?"

Jean nodded, looking worried and helping him fold back the covers. "Of course, sir."

She helped him sit up and wrapped an arm around his back. He hung his head, painfully embarassed that he'd been reduced to needing this much help. They stood and walked to the bathroom without anything exciting happening. Like last time, she left him at the sink and waited in the main part of his quarters while he did his business. When he was done, he levered himself off the toilet and went back to the sink, leaning heavily on the IV stand along the way. He washed his hands, careful to avoid looking at himself in the mirror. He knew that he must look like a train wreck, but he didn't need visual confirmation of the fact. Reed dried his hands off on a towel, being very careful around the catheter, and limped back to the door, again leaning on the IV stand.

_Funny that I was worried about knocking it over yesterday. It makes a good cane_... He triggered the door open and had to stop himself from smiling at the look of surprise on Jean's face when she saw him standing there.

"Sir, you shouldn't be putting unnecessary strain on your leg," she scolded him gently, putting her arm around his back while he reluctantly draped an arm across her shoulders. He really didn't like being this reliant on someone else. "It'll just make your recovery take longer."

"Getting out of bed doesn't do that?" He got back into bed and Jean tucked him in before checking the IV once again. It was a rhythm he was getting used to.

She smirked evilly. "Good point, sir. Should I requisition a bedpan from Sickbay?"

He shuddered, forcing away some thoroughly disturbing mental images. "That won't be necessary."

Jean gave a self-satisfied nod. "That's what I thought. I won't be gone long," she fussed with his pillows and then went back to the bathroom for a second. He tried not to hate her for how quickly and easily she walked there from his bed and back again. She came back with two cups and put them by his bedside. One had a straw and, presumably, water in it. The other appeared to be empty.

"To wet your mouth, if you need to," she explained. "If you need anything while I'm gone, please call Cutler or Phlox. I won't be out long, just until the crazy starts to wear off. Actually," she paused and looked down at her hands thoughtfully for a second. "I'm feeling more sane already, so it'll probably just be a short breakfast."

Reed moved his head on the pillow, hoping that he would fall asleep before she left, or that she would leave pretty soon. "Ensign, perhaps you should let someone else be the judge of that."

_After all, I still think that you're acting barmy_.

She leveled a glare at him. "Ha ha. You're a laugh riot, sir."

He closed his eyes, impatient for her to leave.

"Is there anything else you need before I go, sir?"

He sighed loudly, gripping the covers in one hand as though that would help him hold on to his patience. "Just peace and qui!- quiet, Ensign." One of his stomach cramps had decided to be playful, and it had given him a painful twinge while he spoke. He breathed carefully, keeping his eyes tightly shut and hoping it wouldn't happen again.

Then, for no reason he could fathom, the cramps backed off. He opened his eyes to look for an explanation and saw Jean withdrawing her hand from one of the IV knobs.

_She must have increased my dose of painkiller_.

Instantly, he felt bad about trying to shoo her out. She gave him a patient smile and touched his arm. He glanced up, but felt too guilty to meet her eyes for long.

"I know that I'm a pain in the ass, sir, but I also happen to know what I'm doing."

He nodded. _Make this an olive branch_. "Yes, Ensign, you do."

She patted his shoulder before standing up and heading for the outer door. She triggered it open but paused in the doorway, turning back to him with an impish smile. "At least some of the time, anyway."

He really smiled at that and then looked down at his covers as the door closed. She had left a PADD by his knee. It was the one she'd been reading all night and he picked it up curiously. He marked her place and then scrolled it back to the beginning. Reed smiled when he got to the title page. It read 'The Count of Monte Cristo, by Alexandre Dumas'.

_She's crazy enough, alright, but there's no faulting her choice in reading materials. She's not your average girl, is she?_ He shook his head and settled in to read the book from the beginning.

* * *

When Jean came back from breakfast, Reed hardly noticed her entrance, engrossed as he was in the novel. He automatically shouted 'come!' when his door comm. rang, but he didn't look up. She was a little annoyed that he didn't greet her and was all set to scold him for it when she noticed the PADD in his hands. Her mouth stretched into a smile and she walked over to the bed, standing next to him and cocking her head slightly to read over his shoulder.

"What's happening so far?"

Reed glanced over at her and blinked, a little surprised that she was standing so close. He quickly shook off his initial surprise when he took in her eager expression. He relaxed slightly and looked back to the PADD, checking his place. "Dantes just announced that he and Mercedes would be married within an hour and a half."

Part of Jean's mouth curled into a smirk. "Ah," she sat down on the couch, tucking her feet up under herself and twisting to one side, trying to get comfortable leaning against the armrest. "When was the last time you read it?"

He shook his head a tiny bit, looking thoughtful. "Ages ago. Isn't this right before Edmond is arrested?"

Jean's smirk faded slightly. "Yeah." She shook her head. "You don't want it to happen to him, but if it didn't the story wouldn't be interesting. If everyone is happy at the beginning and nothing goes wrong or there's no problem to solve, it wouldn't really be worth reading. I love how Dumas does it, though. You almost feel it coming but you don't know what 'it' is."

Reed smiled, resting his head against the side of his locker. He'd sat up at some point, propping himself up with every pillow he could reach in order to read more comfortably. He expected Jean to scold him for it – after all, he was supposed to be lying down and resting – but as far as he could tell, she hadn't taken her attention away from the Dumas since she came back.

"Classic literary theory as explained by Jean Olenick."

She just shook her head. If he felt good enough to be making jokes and sitting up, she wasn't about to stop him. "I did some of that, actually."

He seemed confused. "Some of what?"

Somehow his lack of comprehension amused her. "Teaching. I was a TA as an undergrad and then again during grad school. A month into the semester our professor went on sick leave and I ended up taking over the class." She had a rueful smile on her face. "It was fun and rewarding, even though it's a cliché to say teaching is rewarding... I guess it became a cliché because it's true, but it was a lot of work and a serious pain in the ass sometimes. I was doing med school and teaching and taking a couple electives. Some days – the class was on an upper floor – I seriously considered jumping out a window just to get away from all the paperwork."

Reed laughed very quietly. He pictured a frazzled Jean clawing her way out of a sea of books, ungraded papers, and excuse notes. "Where was that?"

She looked sheepish all of a sudden and only answered after fidgeting nervously. "Harvard." She held out her hands, trying to shush his disbelief. "It's just a school like any other. Granted it's older than most and it has a grand reputation, but –"

Reed shook his head solemnly. "It's one of the most esteemed American universities, Ensign. You should be proud to have taught there, even if it was only because you took over someone else's class for part of a term."

Jean chewed her lips, now looking truly embarassed. "Actually, they asked me back for another semester." Reed felt his jaw drop to his chest. "There was a while when I was seriously considering teaching there indefinitely. The students liked the classes I came up with and I grew up in Cambridge, so I was already home..."

Reed blinked at her, flummoxed. _She gave up an opportunity to teach at Harvard? Is she insane?_ "Why didn't you?"

She smiled, shaking her head. "Why do you think? I was a med student at the time, plus I was in a singing group and trying to keep up with my writing. If I'd taken on teaching on top of that, I'd have gone insane."

Reed raised his eyebrows, silently voicing his opinion of her sanity. She leaned over and playfully swatted his shoulder. "Alright, I'm not exactly sane as it is, but if I'd done that I'd be even crazier than I already am."

He gave her a look. "That _is_ a frightening thought."

She only smiled. "Hence my decision _not _to do it."


	5. Day Three: A Little TLC

5

Crew Quarters, B Deck, 1832 hours, June 7 2151

The door chime rang out in Reed's darkened quarters. Jean had left for dinner in the mess just shy of an hour before. It was the first sizeable chunk of time that she'd been gone since two in the afternoon on the previous day, more than twenty eight hours before.

Before she left for dinner, she'd unhooked him from the IVs and helped him to the bathroom – she said that walking with them attached was too unwieldy, but he had a hunch that she wanted to discourage him from walking too far on his own, using the IV stand as a cane – and then she had helped him back to bed again. He fell asleep while she was reattaching the IV line to his hand.

Now he blinked crossly at the door, annoyed that he couldn't get up to answer it on his own. "Ugh. Come in, Ensign, I'm awake."

She stepped inside and was met with near-darkness. The only illumination in his quarters came from the corridor and a small lamp behind the monitor at his workstation.

His quarters were located close to the center of the saucer instead of on its rim, so unlike most of the senior staff he didn't have an oblong window affording him a view of passing stars, or the slight silverish glow which was provided by such a view. Jean had turned off the lights when she left for dinner, hoping that the darkness might help him get some much-needed rest, and her plan had apparently worked.

At first she peered around in the dimness, but she couldn't find him. "Sir? D'you mind if I turn on a light?"

A muffled and peevish reply came from the direction of the bed. "As long as it isn't a bright one."

Before she moved over to where Reed's voice had come from she turned on the overhead lights, gradually increasing the intensity until it was just enough to see by. "Would you like something to drink?"

He shook his head slightly, blinking sleepily. "No thank you, Ensign. I'm not thirsty."

Actually, he felt like he could drain a pitcher of water and still be parched. A failed attempt at sitting up that afternoon had discouraged him from trying to move again. After falling on the previous day and being so ill he'd been very sore and tired, more so than he'd been before, so when he tried to sit up five or so hours ago, he'd just ended up flopping back onto the pillows and coughing for a while afterward. As a consequence he hadn't tried to leave his bunk since then, let alone get himself a glass of water, and he hadn't asked her to bring him one. Besides, he still wasn't sure whether he'd be able to keep it down.

She would begin slowly weaning him off of the saline drip the next day if he could keep sports drinks down, but she was keeping him on the other medicines. The nutrient drip would be stopped once he could keep solid food down and she'd begin slowly tapering him off the painkiller later that night, if he showed improvement. She'd do the same with the anti-nausea medicine, but the antibiotic would stay for at least as long as the nutrient drip.

"Please sir, could you try to drink a little juice?"

He gave her a long-suffering look. _Why doesn't she listen?_ "Ensign..."

She cocked her head to one side and smiled hopefully " ...I'd consider it a favor. Just wet your mouth a little."

He narrowed his eyes at her crossly but agreed. "Fine, but I'm not sure how you expect this to work. If you'll recall I can't even manage to sit up."

"That's easily solved; I came prepared, just like yesterday." She smiled and indicated the glass in her hand, complete with a bendy straw. "All you have to do is cooperate."

Reed watched her apprehensively as she got closer to his bed, eventually sitting down on the edge. Jean held the apple juice steady in one hand while she slid the other hand under the back of his head. When she positioned the glass and straw near his mouth she also gently lifted his head so that the straw was within his reach. As soon as the straw was between his lips Reed began to drink, still eyeing her warily.

After a minute of steady, quiet sips the glass was completely drained and the straw started to make empty sputtering noises.

She smiled at him wryly before letting his head sink back into the pillow and refilling his glass. "Not thirsty, eh? Don't worry sir, I brought more just in case."

Relieved that she didn't give him a hard time and not feeling as parched as before, he smiled and quirked an eyebrow. "How much more?"

With her free hand she gestured to a beat-up looking but sizeable container beside her on the floor. "Slightly more than three liters, and it's all ice-cold."

After glancing at the portable trough she'd brought, he let a tentative crooked smile spread across his face. "My hero."

He watched as she moved back towards him, silently telling himself off for tensing up as she came closer.

_This isn't a date or anything like that. She's simply looking after you. This is her_ _job, so stop being an idiot and just let her do it._

Her hand slid beneath his head again and within a few seconds he was drinking from the straw again. The cool juice was very refreshing, but it made him shiver involuntarily after the first few sips.

A frown creased her forehead. "Is it too cold?" _Damn, I should've remembered that he's been cold. Even before the fever he was chilled. Putting ice in the juice wasn't the best idea_.

He shook his head, trying to stop himself from shivering any more. "Not at all. It's fine."

Frustrated, she rolled her eyes and cleared her throat to get his attention. Once he was looking at her, she spoke.

"Sir, I'm here to look after you and to help you feel better, so if I'm doing something which isn't helpful please tell me. You're allowed to complain. In fact, I'm asking you to." She smiled at him encouragingly. "So, are you _sure_ that the juice isn't too cold?"

Reed shrugged slightly and looked over at her, searching her face for the answer she wanted to hear. He didn't find one there so he decided to answer honestly. "Maybe it is a bit too icy."

She nodded in approval. _I hope it won't always be this hard_

"Okay sir, I'll remove the ice from it. That should help, but I don't want to have to have this conversation with you again..."

He smiled grudgingly as he watched her start to fish the ice out of her bottle with a spoon. It was nice that she cared, but he wasn't used to people coddling him. Of course, this would have been much more awkward and probably more antagonistic with Phlox, so he appreciated Jean's lighter touch and more sympathetic approach. "Understood, Ensign."

"Hmm..." she touched the back of her hand to the water bottle and realized it wasn't much warmer than it'd been before. Of course, she'd only removed the ice a few seconds ago and it'd take a while for the liquid inside it to reach a good temperature. They'd have to do something to pass the time until then.

Jean didn't know Reed well enough yet to be able to differentiate between his moods, but she could tell that he probably didn't want to have a casual conversation just then. Well, if they couldn't pass the time that way...

_... I __am__ here to help him feel better, and my hand is still under his neck. What the hell, the worst thing that can happen is he might ask me to leave, and I know how to handle that._

She pressed her index and middle fingers closely together and started to move them in a slow circle, pressing the tips into the muscles where the base of Reed's neck joined his shoulders.

"Hnn?" He made a low confused noise and lifted his head very slightly as he turned to look at her.

She froze. _Damn. Well, I knew it was a long shot... _"I'm sorry sir. If you don't like that, I'll stop..."

Surprising her for the second time in two days, he shook his head. "No, don't stop. I was just, well, I didn't expect you to do that. Please continue."

"Curiouser and curiouser." She smiled and shook slightly with a contained laugh before she started moving her fingers again in strong and steady circles.

Reed's eyebrows met in recognition. "Lewis Carroll?"

"He's one of my favorites." She shifted uncomfortably, trying to use both hands to work on his neck but having to sit at an awkward angle to do it.

"Sir, would it be alright if I moved to sit behind you? It would make this much easier."

Reed blinked in surprise. "Oh. Not at all, but, um, would I have to move? After this morning I'd rather not try to go anywhere."

She smiled sympathetically. "I'm just going to lift your head and neck a bit and then I'll sit down where your pillow is right now. If you could scoot down towards the foot of the bed to give me some more room it would be helpful, but I don't think it'll be necessary. Does that sound okay?"

In answer, Reed smiled and nodded, starting to move to the foot of his bunk with some effort. "It does. So, what should I...?"

Jean patted his shoulder, gently holding him in place and indicating that he didn't need to move any more. "Just lie there and relax. Let me take care of everything."

Phlox would never do this and Reed wouldn't want him to, but Jean had taken care of him in the past, so it wasn't as awkward as it might have been. It had been ages since he'd had a massage, even longer since he'd had a good one, so while she gently removed his pillow and lifted his head, he allowed himself a small smile of anticipation.

She moved onto the bed and sat cross-legged just above his head, then she slid her hands underneath his neck and touched the base of his skull with her fingertips. She started gently kneading the muscles in his neck, moving her fingers in slowly expanding circles which gradually migrated up the sides of his neck and into his hair. He was surprised until her strong fingers began moving in the same soothing circles on his scalp, prompting a quiet, but unmistakably rapturous sigh.

"Ohhh, that feels so good..."

She smiled and continued with the massage for almost twenty minutes before shifting her arm to lightly touch the side of her water bottle. It had warmed up enough for Reed to drink, so she withdrew her hands and stopped massaging, much to Reed's disappointment. As soon as she did, he surprised her by making a very soft petulant sound.

"Hmm? Why'd you stop?"

In answer she picked up the water bottle and shook it so he could hear the juice sloshing around inside temptingly. "Juice break. It isn't icy anymore so it shouldn't cause any more trouble. Besides, you were starting to fall asleep." She softened when she saw the clear look of interrupted enjoyment on his face. "If you'd like I can resume the massage afterwards."

"Very well, I suppose," he agreed grudgingly, feeling the bed shift as she slipped out from behind him and carefully replaced his pillow. Moments later she picked up the bottle and brought the straw to his lips again while simultaneously lifting his head.

Reed drank more than half the contents of the bottle. Afterwards his thirst seemed to be quenched, so Jean slid her hand out from under him and lowered his head back onto the pillow. He shifted position slightly to get more comfortable and closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of the pillow against his cheek.

Since it was fairly obvious that his neck wasn't bothering him, she started to massage his hands, using some lotion to reduce the friction between her fingers and his skin.

"Who are your other favorite authors, I mean, besides Carroll?"

She smiled. _I guess we're having that casual conversation after all._ "You already know that I adore Alexandre Dumas, and Shakespeare, of course, and William Goldman."

"Really?" Three of her four favorites were English? _Not very likely._ "You liked _Lord of the Flies _?"

"No, that was William Golding." She smiled to herself. "I used to mix them up too."

"So what did Goldman write?"

"The Princess Bride. It's a fairy tale gone wrong." Reed made a face at the name. "I love it, so don't make fun of the title." He nodded against the pillow to signal his agreement, too blissed-out to bother with words.

"I've told you my favorite authors, sir. Who're yours?" He didn't answer.

"Sir?"

This time his only reply was a soft snore. Jean smiled to herself and wiped the remaining lotion off of her hands. "I guess that helped you to relax a little too well."


	6. Day Four: Reassurance

6

Crew Quarters, B Deck, 1520 hours June 8 2151

Reed made his way out of the bathroom unsteadily, leaned against a wall and wiped a washcloth across his mouth. He sat down heavily on the nearest chair, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose in an effort to ward off a headache. After heaving a tired sigh, he reached for the comm. "Reed to Ensign Olenick."

Less than a minute later, a reply came zipping back. "_Olenick here. Is there something you need, sir?_"

He kept his eyes shut and nodded, even though he knew that she could only hear him. "Some more of that anti-nausea medication would be helpful."

"_Yes sir, on my way._"

He'd been weaned off all of the IVs except for the nutrient drip and the antibiotic since the morning, but he was still wary of drinking too much water. This was a problem because, since he wasn't on the saline drip any more, he had to rely on staying hydrated the old fashioned way. The only thing he'd consumed was water, a large volume of it a few hours before, but he still wasn't drinking as much as he should, and as a result he was getting dehydrated. He could tell it was happening because of his headache. He only got this specific kind of headache, the kind that pounded just behind his eyes, when he was dehydrated. The water he had drunk earlier just made a repeat appearance in the bathroom, so he'd have to replace it by drinking more.

His empty stomach gurgled. He wasn't looking forward to doing that. He considered asking Jean to put him back on the saline just because it was so much simpler. Granted, he hated being tethered to the IV stand, but since he was still hooked up to the nutrient drip, another bag wouldn't change the situation too much. He hadn't asked her to bring the saline back because it was still in his quarters, along with the other medicines. She'd left them all there just in case he needed them again, so it was possible that he could hook the saline up himself, but he wasn't certain that he'd do it right. Better to let a professional handle it. As for the other IV lines, the nausea was no longer constant, so when it did rear it's ugly head he'd simply get a hypo of medicine. His leg didn't hurt enough to warrant any more than the occasional hypo, either. It ached and was stiff, but that was all, and the throbbing had almost entirely disappeared. His infection had long since been dealt with, so he didn't think he needed the antibiotic anymore, either, but according to Jean and Phlox, his immune system had been weakened by the radiation and they didn't want to take any chances.

Five minutes later the comm. buzzed and a muffled voice called from outside. "Room service."

Reed smirked and tiredly shook his head. _Completely incorrigible._ "Come in."

Normally the door would've been locked and he would've had to get up in order to let someone in, but since the ensign had started looking after him he'd agreed to give her the locking code. It made things simpler – as she'd said it would – but knowing that she could enter his quarters at any time made him a little uneasy. However, she still buzzed the comm. every time and waited until he invited her in. She did it out of politeness and he appreciated the gesture.

_Besides_, he reasoned, _I can always reset the code later._

The door opened with a hydraulic hiss and Jean entered, medkit in hand. After glancing over at his empty bed she saw him sitting hunched forward in the chair. From the way he was sitting, with his elbows resting on his knees and his head cradled in his hands, it seemed like he was nursing a splitting headache.

Careful to be as quiet as possible, she headed over to where he was sitting. She also didn't want to startle him, so before she did anything else she touched his arm for a moment, just to let him know that she was there. She waited until he muttered his acknowledgement and then administered a dose of the medicine before putting a case of vials and an empty hypospray on the arm of his chair.

Not wanting to make his headache any worse, she tapped his shoulder to get his attention and then spoke in a soft voice, indicating the case and showing him its contents.

"Sir? Here are a few extra doses of the medicine I've been giving you. Some are anti-nausea and some are analgesics, and they're all properly labeled. Use them if you need them, but don't exceed four doses of any of them in twenty-four hours. Okay?"

He looked over at her briefly and then nodded, wondering what this meant. _Just when I'm starting to not mind being looked after she's giving up on me. Well, what did I expect? After all, she's just a doctor and she's just doing her job_.

When he spoke he looked down at the deck instead of at her. "Thank you, Ensign. I'll be sure to do that. Um, Ensign..." He risked a glance at her and saw attentiveness and concern in her eyes. _I might be wrong about this. I hope so... _

He fidgeted for a moment, plucking at a spot on the hem of his shorts where the fabric was wearing thin. "Ensign, why are you leaving these supplies here?"

She had sat down on the arm of his chair and started to lean back against the wall, but now she sat up again. _Danger, Will Robinson! _There'd been a very subtle unsteadiness in his question, like he was hoping for one answer and dreading another, and as soon as she heard it she went on instant alert. _What's he worried about?_

"This morning you seemed more tired than you did yesterday, so I thought that maybe last night you'd had some trouble sleeping but didn't want to disturb me."

As a matter of fact that was exactly what happened. Since he'd fallen asleep so early the day before, he woke up in the middle of the night and spent a few frustrating hours lying awake in bed. He hadn't been tired enough to go back to sleep but he still felt too rotten to get up or do anything, and a look at the clock told him it was too late to call Jean to ask her for a sleep-aid. Eventually he'd fallen asleep again, but even then his dreams had been too troubling to let him rest.

"I just want to make sure you won't have any trouble sleeping during the next few nights. I'll still be looking after you during the day, and now I'll know that if you need some medicine late at night you'll have it. It's one less thing for me to worry about."

While she spoke his face relaxed, going from worried to relieved and then suddenly becoming confused as the last part sunk in. "You worry about me?"

Now it was her turn to be confused. She gave him an affectionate smile and lightly hit his shoulder, pretending to be angry that he'd assumed otherwise. "Of course I do. You're my friend and you happen to be my patient, too. Besides, I get the feeling you wouldn't want to call me late at night, even if you really needed something. It's kinda ironic, actually; I had trouble falling asleep 'cause I was worried that you needed something but didn't want to disturb me, and I didn't want to call you to ask because you might've been asleep and in that case I didn't want to wake you."

He smiled. It was the first true smile she'd seen from him in too long. "One of us should've just called the other. I appreciate the concern, but you shouldn't lose any sleep worrying about me."

She hesitated and fidgeted for a moment after packing up her med kit. "I'm not sure whether it's a good thing or a bad thing that you're up. How do you feel?"

A few seconds after she'd administered the hypo, his stomach had settled down again and his quarters had stopped twirling about like an insane carousel, so he risked a nod and was pleased when it didn't trigger any dizziness.

"Better. Still tired and a bit sick, but at least I'm not just lying in bed anymore. It's good to be up and about again. Maybe now I can get some work done."

_No way will I let that happen._

"Sir, I'm glad that you're feeling better but you still need to take it easy. That means bed rest and no work until the end of the week. Now please, let me help you back to bed." She put out a hand, offering to help him up but not really expecting him to accept.

However, instead of arguing or protesting, he took her hand and allowed her to steer him across his quarters to the bed; he even put his arm across her shoulders so she could support his weight better.

Pleased, she tried to hide her surprise. "How's your leg? It doesn't seem to be bothering you as much as before."

As they moved, he tried putting more weight on his injured leg and was surprised to discover that he could almost walk without limping. "It's still a bit stiff and sore, but moving it doesn't hurt as much. As a matter of fact, there's hardly any pain at all. If I weren't so damned dizzy and tired I could probably walk on my own."

She smiled and adjusted her grip on his arm to help guide him onto the bed. "That's good, about your leg, and the dizziness will subside in a day or two. If you don't mind my asking, what was the work you wanted to do?"

"I wanted to write a report on what I saw of the Novans, the music I heard them playing, but..."

He sat down on his bunk gingerly, wincing and closing his eyes before continuing. His quarters had begun to spin again and he waited with his head in his hands for the walls and lockers to stop pitching about. It was quite a while before he looked up again, but eventually he opened his eyes and looked at her with a somewhat beaten air.

"Ugh. It seems you were right about not trying to work. Right now, bed rest is starting to be very appealing."

She reached out and laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. He glanced up at her and managed a thin smile. She moved her hand up and down his arm in a soothing gesture, at the same time urging him to lie down. Fortunately, it didn't take too much convincing. Shortly thereafter he turned, gingerly lifted his sore leg onto the bed, and lay back against the pillows.

The covers on his bed were rumpled up together and he was wearing civvies which doubled as PJs, so getting him settled in bed again was easy.

She pulled the blankets up to tuck him in and then adjusted his pillow, allowing herself to hover over him for a few seconds after she reattached his IVs. A quick scan had shown that he was getting dehydrated again, so she added the saline to the IV stand and put it on a slow drip. She still wanted him to be drinking water, but since his stomach was still giving him a hard time, it seemed best to play it safe. _No need to torture the poor guy. He'll drink more when he's ready to_.

"Are you warm enough, sir? Is there anything you need?"

He was relieved to see the saline hanging from his IV stand again, but there was something else he needed. "Actually, Ensign, could you..."

His eyebrows moved closer together, betraying his frustration. Even though he felt like hell he wanted some company, but he just couldn't work up the nerve to ask her to stay. He usually wasn't a very social person, but he trusted Jean and he liked her, and while he hadn't been thrilled when she set up camp on his couch, he'd gotten used to her being there. It was oddly comforting, knowing that if he needed something, no matter how trivial, she could take care of it.

_Oh, and while we're on the subject of triviality_... Reed shook his head. He'd been lonely since she'd gone back to her own quarters, even though she'd still been spending several hours a day with him. Just then, though, he badly wanted someone to talk to. Disappointed in himself, Reed sighed and lamely finished the incomplete question.

"Could you bring me some water?"

She nodded and headed over to his bathroom. "Of course sir."

Jean had a hunch about what he'd really wanted to ask and smiled gently when she returned and handed the full glass to him. "Sir, would you mind if I stay awhile? I'm curious about Terra Nova and you said something about the Novans playing music. Could you tell me what it was like down there?"

He relaxed and nodded, glad that she'd understood his predicament and made it as painless as possible. "I'd be happy to tell you all about it, Ensign."


	7. Day Five: Some Company

7

Crew Quarters, B Deck, 1348 hours June 9 2151

"Oh no you don't," she said, gently but firmly stopping him from getting up.

Reed was sitting up in bed and leaning against the locker that formed a headboard for his bunk. He was feeling much better than he had the day before, so he'd been trying to convince Jean to let him do some work. Of course, she wouldn't hear of it.

"Ensign..." He gave her a long-suffering look, secretly glad that he'd kept the whine out of his voice and managed to only sound irritated. A pillow had been put behind his shoulders, so when he let his head fall back against the locker in defeat he didn't hurt himself.

"Phlox gave me very specific instructions. In addition to looking after you, I've been ordered to make sure that you actually rest..."

He cut her off, raising his voice slightly and fixing her with a stern look. "Ensign, I still outrank you."

But she kept on talking as though he hadn't said anything. "... and if necessary I'll recommend to Phlox that a security detail be posted outside your quarters. Or I could just sedate you for a day or two."

He looked scandalized, not wanting to believe her. "You wouldn't."

She tilted her head slightly and one corner of her mouth twitched defiantly. "Try me. It would make babysitting you much easier. Besides, where medicine is concerned Phlox outranks everyone on Enterprise, so you can't countermand his orders."

The fact that he was fighting her and being less cooperative meant that he was indeed feeling better, but he still needed to rest and not do anything to overexert himself. At the same time, she knew that he was a very work-oriented person, so she understood that not being able to do any work for an entire week must be killing him. She decided to ease up a little.

"If you'd really like something to keep yourself occupied," she held out a PADD to him with its blue screen softly glowing, "here's a crewman's report on Terra Nova. If you'd like to add anything to read it."

He took the PADD from her reluctantly and started to skim it, but after a short while he put it aside and gave her a strange look. "Ensign, this report seems very familiar. Do you have any idea who wrote it?"

She smiled mischievously and nodded, barely able to contain herself. "Yes sir. You did."

Instead of clearing it up, this seemed to make Reed even more confused. He picked the PADD up again and looked for the byline, but was further confused to find his own name there, along with yesterday's date as the date for when it was written.

"It's not possible. This report contains details that only I observed, and I haven't recorded any of it. Ensign, where did you get this?"

Jean grinned at him sheepishly, slightly less eager to give her explanation than she'd been a few moments before.

"Well sir, yesterday you mentioned wanting to write a report on Terra Nova, so when we started talking I set this PADD to record our conversation. Right now it's in an interview format but all the things you said yesterday are there, so editing it into whatever format you'd prefer should be fairly simple."

She sat on the edge of his bed gnawing at her lip, waiting for him to say something. He looked from her to the PADD and back several times without saying a word. Finally, when she could hardly stand it anymore, he cleared his throat and spoke up.

"Well, ensign, it seems that you are willing to let me do some light work today," she nodded, smiling and waiting for him to continue since it was clear that he had more to say.

"I suppose I should thank you for letting me work yesterday... even though I didn't know it at the time. I did want to get something done and the way you did this was very creative. Thank you."

"You're very welcome. I'm willing to let you work, as long as you'll promise to do the work in bed and to put it down when you start feeling tired."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Agreed." He pointed towards two bowls which had mysteriously appeared in his quarters. One was full of crackers and the other held red, presumably cherry-flavored, jiggly stuff which he believed Americans referred to as 'gelatin' instead of 'jelly'.

He had learned the difference during his Starfleet training when he had asked for a bowl of jelly at a diner in San Francisco. The waitress had given him a strange look and gestured at a wire holder on his table which contained small packets of jam. _"Hon,"_ she had said, _"That right there is jelly. Did'ja mean you wanted a bowl of that stuff, or did you want flavored gelatin?"_

Reed shook his head at the memory and brought himself back to the present.

"I assume you left these here for me?"

She nodded, enjoying his amused tone. "You were asleep when I came by earlier. I didn't want to wake you, so I just left the bowls. It's been a few days since you've had anything solid to eat, so it'll be good to start off with something easy to digest."

He nodded and took a few crackers out of the bowl. "Thanks"

_Not only am I being kept here against my will, but they've got me on a diet of bread and water, too._ The irony of it prompted him to smile.

She raised her eyebrows in mild confusion and her mouth smiled again. "Just doing my job." She wasn't sure what was amusing him but hoped that he'd let her in on it.

He was still smiling when her response sank in, and then the smile began to fade. He chewed on one of the crackers thoughtfully, washing down a dry mouthful with some water and then waving the rest of that cracker at her.

"No, this is more than just your job. As a doctor you aren't obligated to do anything more than give me medicine and advice, but you've been staying here to visit and talk with me, bringing me food and, well..." He shook his head helplessly, not knowing how to articulate everything she'd done for him over the past few days.

She looked down at the carpet for a second, almost seeming embarrassed. "Well, maybe my duties as doctor and friend have overlapped some, and I'm sorry if I've been fussing over you too much. I know it makes some people uncomfortable..."

He finished off another cracker. "I'm not one of them. If you'll recall, I was the one who asked you to stay yesterday."

Her head tilted to one side and she showed an evil half-smile. "Really, sir? I don't remember that conversation." He was well enough now that she didn't feel guilty about giving him a hard time.

Reed shot her a surprised look which he managed to turn into a playful glare. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean, ensign." _So you know that I wanted you to stay, just don't say anything about it._

Fortunately, she seemed to understand. "Alright sir. There are a few things I need to take care of in Sickbay. It shouldn't take me more than half an hour, but if you start to feel daring before I come back, comm. me and I'll bring you some soup." She paused, looking at him sternly. "Can I trust you to stay in bed while I'm gone?"

He nodded, smiling a bit and relaxing against the pillows to show her that he'd behave. _Alright. Soup could be good. I am starting to feel hungry again, and she'll come back here when she's done with whatever she needs to do. She'll come back. She doesn't have to, but she'll do it anyway._

"I can't thank you enough."

She patted his arm as she stood up, flashing him a reassuring smile on her way to the door. "You already have."


	8. Day Five: House Calls

8

The door to Reed's quarters had barely shut behind Jean when someone asked her a question. "Ensign. How's your patient?"

She turned around to face the familiar voice and saw the captain smiling at her.

"He's doing better, sir. He should be able to return to duty pretty soon, day after tomorrow if he agrees to just one shift per day of light duties 'til next week, but after that he'll only be back full time if he doesn't push himself too hard."

Archer nodded, smiling. "And the chances of that happening are slim to none." He knew the lieutenant well enough by now to know that the man wouldn't think twice about overworking himself.

_But why, though? I don't pressure the crew to grin and bear it, so what's his reason? What does he have to prove? _He shook his head and smiled ruefully._ Glad I'm a captain and not a psychologist._

He cocked his head at her. "Have you told him yet?"

She laughed quietly, shooting him an _are you kidding? _look. "No, sir. If he knew, he'd start tryin' to get his hands on all the daily reports he's missed and planning and prioritizing what he needs to do once he gets back."

Archer chuckled. _That does sound like Reed._ "Anything I can do?"

"Actually, sir, there is. I think a visit from his captain would cheer him up."

His eyebrows flew up into his hair. "You really think so? I've been planning on stopping in, but between the relocation and not knowing if he would be up to a visit, I didn't want to just barge into my Tactical Officer's quarters."

She nodded at him. "He's up for it, sir. As a matter of fact, I've had my hands full trying to keep him in his bunk today. Physically he's much better, but his mood isn't exactly..." She shook her head with a slight frown. "Hearing something positive from his commanding officer, like thanks for a job well done, might help him to relax."

Archer laughed quietly, shaking his head and then trying to look serious again. It didn't work very well. "Seems like you've been crawling around inside his head for a while, Ensign. I'll stop by his quarters and talk to him the first chance I get. Y'know, the mission really only succeeded because he agreed to let the Novans keep him as a hostage while Nadet and Jamin came up to Enterprise with us..."

She gave him an amused, frustrated look, shaking her head at him before motioning towards Reed's quarters. "Great, sir, but go tell _him_ that. He'd never come right out and say it, of course, but he needs to know that his captain appreciates him. It's bad enough that he's a guy, but he's English too, so keeping things to himself has really been beaten into him."

Archer glanced at the deck plating near his boots and then smiled at her from under his eyebrows. "I'll keep that in mind..." He paused, stepping into a recess in the corridor to let a couple crewmen by who were carrying storage crates. They seemed to be in a hurry and Jean looked at them curiously as they walked past. She watched them until they disappeared around a corner and she realized they were heading to one of the turbo lifts.

"They're bringing supplies down to the launch bay. When we started relocating the Novans, Trip thought it'd be a good idea to give them some water purifiers. Chef heard about it and he donated emergency ration packs, and then Phlox insisted that we include basic medical supplies. T'Pol reminded everyone in the room about cultural contamination and how we shouldn't do anything to influence how their society develops, so now Chef is just giving them dried goods and things they can prepare and use with their level of technology. Phlox is doing the same, but under protest."

She smirked, imagining Phlox's protests. "I'll bet."

"As we were saying, Ensign," Archer returned to the previous subject, crossing his arms over his chest and waggling his eyebrows at her in mock-seriousness. "You might need to help me out with this sometimes, if I really am this hopeless."

She rolled her eyes. _Honestly, this captain... pretending to need my advice about dealing with one of his own senior officers?_

Was he a little thickheaded? Yes. Was it annoying that he thought he was funny? Yes. But he wasn't hopeless. Of course, he wasn't nearly as charming as he thought he was, either.

"You aren't hopeless, sir, he's just not the most forthcoming person, especially about how he feels. He's a great guy, sir. You really should meet him sometime."

"'Meet him'? What d'you mean, meet him?"

She didn't answer, just headed off down the corridor, leaving behind a very confused captain. He watched until she turned a corner and disappeared, shaking his head and grinning to himself as he started walking to Reed's quarters.

_She's nuts. Utterly insane, but we need someone like that on board. Having a compassionate, intuitive nut job like her on the crew helps keep our lives interesting._

He walked up to Reed's door, but then he paused. Archer didn't have the same easy relationship with Reed that he had with Jean and Travis, and he hadn't known the lieutenant as long as he'd known Trip or Hoshi, so now, despite what Jean had said, he wasn't certain what kind of reception to expect on the other side of the door. After briefly worrying about it, though, he remembered that since he was the captain, Reed would have to talk to him.

_Malcolm might not tell me his life story, but he respects and trusts his captain. He won't ask me to leave_.

Archer rang the door comm., then stepped through after Reed shouted "come."

He'd barely been in the room for a second when he was greeted by a question. The tone of it was friendly and playful. "Back so soon? I wasn't expecting you to be that quick."

Reed was sitting up in bed, studying something on a PADD in his hand. He was facing away from the door, so he didn't know that it was the captain who had just come into in his quarters.

Archer chuckled softly to himself and walked into Reed's line of sight. "Sorry to disappoint you, Lieutenant, but she's gone to Sickbay..."

He would have said more, but Reed sat bolt upright in bed at the captain's voice, and when Archer moved to see Reed's face, he saw that the man looked positively stricken. _Damn. Maybe this wasn't the best idea..._

"At ease, Lieutenant. I just came by to see how you're feeling." Archer was a little unnerved to see that Reed was still hooked up to a couple of IVs. After all, he had thought that the man was getting better_._ He would have frowned but didn't want to make Reed any more uneasy than he already was.

Reed nodded crisply, his eyes large as he nervously licked his lips. However, his voice was steady enough. "Thank you, Captain. That was very thoughtful."

"Malcolm... " Archer shook his head slightly and smiled to reassure him. "Is it okay if I sit down?"

Reed nodded mutely and was somewhat relieved when Archer pulled over the chair from his work station. For a fleeting moment, he had been worried that the captain wanted to sit on his bed. _Why did I think that? Jean tends to sit on my bed when she's here, so I must have just assumed..._

Archer waited for Reed to say something, but after a sizeable pause, during which the lieutenant said nothing, Archer started talking. "I'm sorry about just dropping in on you like this, but I've been meaning to talk to you ever since the mission and since I was passing by anyway, I thought I'd stop in."

Reed blinked, still clearly uncomfortable. "It's not a problem, sir. I just – I wasn't expecting to see you. What was it that you wanted to talk about?"

The captain leaned back in his chair slightly and glanced around the sparsely decorated room. There was what looked like the cross-section of a petrified tree centered on the shelf above Reed's bunk, flanked on either side by a few books and cases. When he came into the room he had also noticed a square ceramic dish perched opposite the door, as well as a small mounted photo on a side table below it. He let his gaze linger on the photo for a moment, briefly wondering who the people in it were before he fixed Reed with a steady look. "How are you feeling? I'd like to know when you'll be back on the bridge."

As soon as he said it Reed became more alert, sitting up even straighter, a feat which Archer hadn't thought possible. "I can be back as soon as you need me, Captain."

Archer shook his head, suddenly regretting his choice of words. "Hold on, Malcolm. There's no rush and I don't want you to push yourself too hard. I need my senior officers to be healthy."

Reed relaxed slightly, nodding his understanding. "Yes sir."

To his dismay, Reed found that the conversation was rapidly wearing him out_. I shouldn't be this tired from sitting – not even standing – at attention. I'm not up to snuff yet. Not by a long shot._ He leaned back against his locker and briefly let his eyes close. Only for a second, though, since he was acutely aware that the captain was watching him.

Archer smiled, glad that the man was allowing himself some rest. "Jean tells me that you've been tired."

"Still too damn tired," Reed murmured, letting his eyes stay closed.

Archer chuckled at the unexpected admission, but Reed was less amused. His head jerked around to look at the captain and his eyes flew open.

"I'm sorry, Captain. That was inappropriate. I shouldn't complain..." _I let my guard down for one second, and look what happens!_

The captain raised his hand, his chuckles subsiding as he cut Reed off. "From what I understand, you've had a rough couple of days." Archer smiled kindly and rested his hand on Reed's shoulder. "The only reason you were injured on Terra Nova, Lieutenant, was because you were doing your job; acting as rear-guard when we were trying to leave the tunnels. If you hadn't done that, I would have been shot, not you." Archer's hand fell away and he sat back in the desk chair. "You're entitled to complain a little bit, Lieutenant. I certainly won't hold it against you."

Reed nodded, letting himself be supported even more by the locker. "Thank you, sir. I appreciate the consideration."

'Rough' didn't begin to cover it, especially the first day he was back in his own quarters. Reed shuddered, remembering how he'd fallen trying to get to the bathroom and how horribly embarrassing it had been to be found like that, sprawled out on the deck plating with a puddle of fresh sick by his head. Granted, he hadn't been sick for nearly twenty-four hours now, something for which he was incredibly grateful, but he still wanted to shove the mental image out of an airlock.

Archer's brow furrowed the second Reed shuddered, not realizing that he was simply remembering something from a few days before. "Malcolm? Are you okay?"

_Ridiculous question, that. Of course I'm not 'okay'. If I were, do you honestly think that I'd be in bed at two in the afternoon when I should be on duty?_

Naturally, though, Reed didn't say any of that. Instead he nodded, his lips even twitching into a slight smile to reassure the captain. "I'm fine, sir. As you said, it has been a rough couple of days, but I'm feeling better."

Archer bobbed his head, smiling. He put his hands on his knees, assuming the 'captain, commanding' pose which the entire bridge crew had become familiar with. "I was thinking," he smiled at Reed, trying to put the man at ease but speaking a little too loudly. "You spent more time with most of the Novans than any of the rest of us did. I mean, before we started the relocation. I'm curious to know what it was like down there."

Reed looked at Archer blankly, not fully understanding. "I'm not certain I take your meaning, sir. What is it that you'd like to know?"

Archer shrugged a little, laughing. "Everything. How did they interact, did they all speak the same way, what tools did they use. Did you see any rituals or group activities? How did they treat you? Were they antagonistic towards you or were some of them friendly? What did they eat?"

At the last question Reed's face got tighter and, without even thinking about it, he put a protective hand over his belly. "I can't speak highly of their cuisine, sir, but as for your other questions, I'll do my best to answer them."

* * *

Ten minutes into the informal debriefing, the comm. rang.

"_Ensign Olenick to Lieutenant Reed._"

Archer and Reed shared a look, then the lieutenant nodded to his CO. Archer smiled a little, getting up from Reed's desk chair, and took a communicator out of his pocket, opening it and handing it over to Reed. The lieutenant smiled thinly and tried to clear his throat without making any noise. It was a trick he'd been trying to learn by watching Jean do it, but he didn't quite have the hang of it yet.

"Reed here." He grimaced at the scratchiness of his voice and tried to clear his throat with a light cough. "Go ahead."

"_Sir, I finished up in Sickbay a bit earlier than expected, and I'm in the mess hall grabbing myself some lunch. Would you like me to bring you anything to eat?_"

Reed sighed, letting his head fall slightly forward. He was a bit hungry, but after almost a week of nothing but IV nutrition and a few crackers, he wasn't sure that his stomach would be too happy about suddenly dealing with solid food. Of course, he wasn't about to say all that with the captain sitting in on the conversation.

"I suppose that would be alright, ensign. You mentioned something about soup before you left…"

"_Yes sir,_" the comm. crackled slightly. "_Lunch today is soup and an assortment of sandwiches. If you'd like, I can bring you a bowl of soup and something to drink. They will both be easy to digest. Does that sound good, sir?_"

Reed glanced over at the captain, nodding in acquiescence to Archer's silent urging. "Yes, Ensign. That sounds fine."

There was a moment of silence from the comm., and then "_Would the captain like anything?_" Her smirk was clearly audible.

Reed's eyes went wide and they darted between the comm. unit in his hand and Archer, who had started to squirm slightly in his seat.

_She knew he was going to be here? How? No… that isn't important. What matters is why she said it, which was no doubt to make both of us uncomfortable. Little minx… Very well, two can play at this game._

"I don't know, Ensign." He smirked a bit to himself, handing the comm. back to the captain. "Why don't you ask him?"

Archer was wearing an expression halfway between a grin and a grimace, and Reed didn't know what to make of it, aside from the fact that the captain looked as though he felt decidedly guilty about something.

Reed felt a twinge of guilt about sticking Archer in the middle of this teasing match and he honestly wasn't sure what had possessed him to do it. He wasn't normally this jocular around his superiors, but he supposed that a combination of Jean's questionable influence, his own tiredness, and the various medicines in his IV were to blame.

The captain took the comm. unit from Reed reluctantly, feeling like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Archer here. A sandwich and soup sounds like just the ticket. What with the relocation, I haven't had a chance to get down to the mess since breakfast."

"_Understood, sir. I'll bring a tray down for all of us." _She paused, and Reed knew – he wasn't sure how exactly – but he knew that she was grinning like mad. "_And how are you two getting along?_"

Reed felt his mouth fall open, and although Archer seemed to be slightly amused, he was wearing a similar expression of surprise. The captain composed himself fairly quickly, shaking his head but unable to remove the sheepish grin from his face. "We're doing just fine, Ensign. You'll be along with the food before too long?"

She instantly picked up on the subtext: we are not having this conversation, say no more about this. "_Yes sir. Lunch for three coming up._"

The captain nodded, shooting a guilty look at Reed. "Archer out." He closed the comm., slipping the device back into his pocket and then fidgeting slightly in his chair.

Reed watched him curiously, not certain that he liked some of the implications of what Jean had said. Had the captain even wanted to see him? Was it his intention to stop by at all, or was the whole thing her idea? Was the man's concern for him genuine?

Finally, Archer spoke. "It was her idea for me to stop in today. I'd been meaning to do it, but what with relocating the Novans, and not knowing whether you…" he cleared his throat self consciously, "how you were doing, I didn't want to just barge in."

Reed nodded, letting the information sink in. There were a few things he had learned about Archer in the two months since Enterprise had launched. He knew that the man could get very absorbed in his work, to the point where he lost track of the time. He also knew that Archer wanted to be on friendly terms with his senior officers. After all, he and Trip had known each other for years, and lord only knew how long he had known Hoshi… The man seemed intent on cultivating similar relationships with the rest of the bridge crew, perhaps with the exception of T'Pol. Personally, though, Reed didn't approve of that sort of fraternization, but he had no intention of ever voicing that disapproval to his captain. However, the last thing he had learned about the man was that he was a terrible liar. Archer couldn't lie convincingly to members of his own crew, and that fact convinced Reed to take him at his word.

"Sir, did you speak to her?"

Archer looked up from under his eyebrows. "I ran into her in the corridor, and she… suggested that I..." he trailed off, running a hand through his hair and glancing away, unwilling to finish the sentence.

Reed set his jaw, trying to stop himself from smirking. "I suppose it's good to know that I'm not the only one she… that she can persuade."

The captain grinned. "I think that 'persuade' is too polite a word for it, Malcolm."

"Yes sir." Reed finally lost the battle, and a smirk broke out on his face. "When we had survival training together, I started calling her 'Admiral', because she was so bossy."

Archer sat forward slightly, eager to hear what Reed was saying. The man so rarely talked about anything that wasn't work related, the idea of having a conversation with him about a mutual friend – and a member of his crew – was an opportunity he just couldn't pass up.

"She mentioned that you two became friends during survival training. Which was it; tropical, desert or cold weather survival?"

Reed leaned heavily back against his locker, blinking slowly for a few seconds before he managed to rouse himself. For a second there, he'd felt just about ready to fall asleep during a conversation with his captain. That just wouldn't do. He nodded, absent-mindedly rubbing his injured leg through the blankets. It was the same leg which he'd hurt during survival training, but then it had been a sprained ankle instead of a bullet wound.

"Two weeks in the Sahara in the middle of August."

Archer laughed. "Not an ideal vacation spot. I had mine with Trip; two weeks in the Australian outback. I'm not sure he'll ever forgive me for those snake-meat dinners."

"It wasn't so bad, actually." Reed smiled faintly. "We found an oasis… it was surrounded by marsh and quicksand, but she wasn't about to be slowed down by that."

Archer made a face. "Why doesn't that surprise me?"

Reed shrugged one shoulder. "We did have a bit of an adventure with some quicksand, but aside from that…"

The door chime sounded, and Archer got up, patting Reed's shoulder on his way to the door. "Hold that thought, Malcolm."

He triggered the door open and saw Jean standing there, holding a tray laden with three bowls of soup, two of which were covered with sandwich plates, three nested tumblers, and a pitcher of some carbonated beverage.

She looked up at him, smiling, and declared "luncheon is served."


	9. Day Five: Camaradarie

9

Archer smiled down at her. "This looks very good, Ensign."

Jean returned the smile, fidgeting slightly in the corridor. She kept her movements to a minimum, not wanting to spill or upset any of the containers on her tray. Her smile faded very slightly when he didn't move. Somehow, the captain didn't seem to realize that he was blocking the doorway, thus preventing her from entering Reed's quarters.

"Sir, if you wouldn't mind…" she gestured inside with her left elbow. "I'd like to give Lieutenant Reed his soup."

"Oh…" Archer flashed her a sheepish grin, taking a step back to let her pass by. "Sorry about that."

She stepped into Reed's quarters, nodding at the captain on her way to set the tray down at Reed's workstation. "Thank you, Captain." She started taking the covered bowls of soup off of the tray and moving them to the limited space of Reed's workstation. "Now, sirs, we have tomato bisque and a turkey club for the captain, chicken noodle soup and a tuna sandwich for me," she named each item as she relocated it and carefully set them all on the desk, "and chicken ginger soup for the lieutenant." She left Reed's food on the tray and removed all but one of the tumblers, which she filled from the pitcher before putting that aside as well. She filled one of the other tumblers and handed it to the captain.

The drink was pale gold in color and slightly fizzy. Archer smiled, looking at the beverage curiously. "Thank you, Ensign. What is it?"

"Ginger beer." She elaborated when Archer gave her a concerned look. "It's non-alcoholic, sir, and very tasty. Spicier than ginger ale. I hope you'll enjoy it."

The captain nodded his understanding and took a sip, watching as she picked up the tray again and carried it over to Reed's bunk.

Reed looked vaguely uncomfortable when she walked over to him and she smiled encouragingly before setting the tray on his lap. "Eat up, sir." There was a spoon resting on a folded napkin next to the soup and she nudged it towards him with a cheeky wink. "Doctor's orders."

Reed gave a small nod of assent and picked up the spoon in one hand while the other hand unfolded his napkin and set it on the mattress next to his thigh.

Archer had another mouthful of his ginger beer, then he took his soup out from under the sandwich plate and started working on it. He savored the first spoonful, then smiled and gestured to Reed with his spoon. "Better do as she says, Malcolm. Wouldn't want the admiral to be angry with you."

Jean stood up, narrowing her eyes in annoyed understanding and looking from one man to the other for a long moment before hissing at Reed, "you told him about that?"

Reed froze with the soup spoon almost to his mouth, then carefully lowered it back into the bowl and shifted uneasily in place, shooting her an apologetic look and holding the soup bowl steady so his movement wouldn't upset it. "Ensign, I…"

Archer took pity on the man and wiped a napkin at his mouth to hide his grin. "Mr. Reed was just telling me about how you both had survival training together and that nickname… slipped out by accident."

She nodded slowly, not seeming convinced at all. "Of course it did, sir." She took her food over to the comfy chair by the door and set the soup and sandwich down on the large upholstered arm, shooting a playful glare at Reed after she sat down. "Eat you soup, Stinky."

Archer's eyebrows flew up at the nickname, and when he looked at Reed, he saw that the man had turned an interesting shade of maroon. As a matter of fact, the reserved, by-the-book Tactical Officer was almost the same color as the piping on Reed's neatly folded uniform. "'Stinky'?" He repeated the name incredulously, shifting his gaze to Jean when Reed had a mouthful of soup instead of offering an explanation.

Jean shrugged at the captain, grinning mischievously. "Private joke." She smiled more gently at Reed but her tone was still playful. "Fair is fair, sir. You told the captain about calling me "Admiral', I tell him about calling you 'Stinky'. Wanna fault me for retaliating? Go for it."

Reed's voice was deceptively cool as he turned to face her. "I may do just that, Crewman."

She narrowed her eyes at him again, gesturing pointedly at the metal pip on her right shoulder. "I'm an ensign, sir."

The lieutenant raised one eloquent eyebrow, his expression hard except for a slight twinkle in his gray eyes. "I wouldn't count on that."

Archer chuckled, taking another spoonful of soup and urging Reed to eat as well. The lieutenant went back to his own soup with an air of satisfaction, and managed to put away a few spoonfuls without so much as a slurp.

The captain shook his head slightly and resumed his lunch, smiling. "Ensign, how did you know that this was my favorite of chef's soups?"

She had a bit of her own soup and shrugged. "I asked one of the stewards, sir… it might have been Crewman Daniels. He also told me which sandwich you preferred."

"Very thoughtful of you. So… Malcolm tells me you had survival training together."

She nodded by way of confirmation, taking a quick sip of her drink before answering. "Yes, sir. The Sahara in August. I suggested that we should head for an oasis we had seen on our way in. Took us the better part of a day to get there, and when we finally reached it, Lieutenant Reed realized that it was surrounded by quicksand."

Archer gave a nod of his own as he finished off his first course and moved on to his sandwhich. "Malcolm mentioned something about that, but he didn't go into any specifics. Maybe you could tell me about it while the lieutenant and I enjoy our lunch."

Jean glanced at Reed, scowled when she saw a phantom smirk on his face, and let out a resigned sigh. The quicksand had not been one of her finer moments, and hearing her recount it would no doubt make it that much easier for Reed to forgive her for her mention of 'Stinky'. She was a little surprised that Reed didn't seem bothered by the captain's implied directive to eat up, but knowing him, even if he did resent it, he wouldn't say anything. She watched him carefully, pleased that her plan for getting Archer to share a meal with his officer was working, but unwilling to let the lieutenant tire himself out. He was still recovering, after all, and even though he had been fairly energetic today she was keeping an eye out for any signs of fatigue.

"Yes, Ensign. I'm sure the captain would enjoy hearing about your unique method of navigating the swamp." Reed looked the picture of innocence, taking a mouthful of ginger beer and smiling faintly at her over the rim of his glass. Jean was also encouraged by the return of Reed's dry wit, which seemed to have come back as a two-for-one special with his appetite.

Jean smiled pleasantly at Archer as she had a wicked thought. "I'll tell the story, Captain, provided that Lieutenant Reed finishes his soup before I'm done telling it."

Archer glanced at Reed and grinned, but it wasn't clear if he was fully aware of the byplay going on around him. "Done. Dig in, Malcolm."

Reed's face darkened almost imperceptibly as he put aside his drink, but he resumed eating the soup without comment. He might not give any outward sign that he minded the captain telling him to 'dig in', provided that it was the captain's idea to do so, but Jean had a hunch that an ensign using the captain to chivvy him along would be a bit harder to swallow.

"Well," she began, looking at the captain, "we had to figure out what parts of the ground were stable. I had a collapsible axe and rope in my pack, and Lieutenant Reed had found a good walking stick earlier, so we both tested the firmness of the ground and he marked the unstable parts with an 'X'."

Archer polished off his drink and reached for the pitcher to refill his glass. "How did you use an axe and rope to test the ground?"

She glanced at Reed with a rueful smile. "It was pretty simple; I tied the rope to my axe handle and would toss it forward. If the ground didn't shift and the axe didn't sink after ten or so seconds I would pull the axe back and move on to the next part. After a few minutes I started getting impatient and I spent less time waiting to see if the axe would sink after each throw."

Reed gave her a soft smirk as he polished off the last bits of his lunch. After he had eaten the last spoonful, his eyes drifted closed and he rested his head against the locker. She got up from her seat and stepped towards his bunk, shaking her head slightly at her own foolishness as she went on with the story. "I thought that a patch of ground was stable, so I stepped onto it, but then I began to sink." She leaned down to take the empty bowl from Reed, and her smile faded when he turned his head to hide the fact that he was muffling a yawn into his napkin. He turned back to face her again, blinking owlishly, and seemed startled to find that she was standing so close. She gave him a tender smile to put him at ease and took the bowl and spoon from him, patting his hand before she stepped away again, continuing her story and hoping that Archer wouldn't notice how sleepy the Tactical Officer suddenly was.

"Anyway, I started to sink, so I threw off my backpack and called for help. Lieutenant Reed came right over and I tossed him the end of my rope. I held on to the axe and he pulled me out a minute later…" she shrugged sheepishly, "The longest minute of my life."

By that point Archer had finished most of his sandwhich and he put down the remainder, shaking his head. "It's a good thing you were there, Malcolm."

Reed straightened his shoulders and blinked rapidly, trying to rouse himself. "Yes, sir. I'm just glad I was able to help." He had a couple mouthfuls of the chilled ginger beer, and that seemed to help him be more alert.

Jean grinned at him. "So you said at the time, but that didn't stop you from pointing out exactly how 'daft' I had been, and that," she cleared her throat and did a passable imitation of Reed's accent "'perhaps if you had been more careful and patient in the first place, Jean, you wouldn't have landed yourself in such trouble that you needed rescuing'." She smiled sweetly at Reed afterwards and sat back down.

The lieutenant tried to level one of his famous icy glares at Jean, but his face twitched into an involuntary smile instead and he wound up draining the last of his drink, chuckling softly.

Archer covered his own chuckles with a cough, shaking his head at the surprisingly easy camaraderie between his reticent Chief of Security and his demonstrative DMO. "You know, when Trip and I had our survival training at Alice Springs we didn't have any run-ins with quicksand. There were a lot of flies… I think they were blackflies, and we had one hell of a time catching snakes for dinner…"

Jean nodded, listening to the captain with one ear but watching Reed. A close look at the lieutenant confirmed Jean's suspicions that he was still struggling to stay awake. His eyes seemed to drift shut of their own accord, his shoulders were slumped forward slightly, and the empty tumbler which he still held in one hand was tipping at an odd angle due to the fact that his fingers had relaxed and they weren't keeping firm hold of the glass any more.

She shook her head a tiny bit, not enough of a motion to draw Captain Archer's attention away from the story he was telling about his time with Trip in Australia.

"Sir, interesting as this story is, I'm sure you have some captaining to do."

Archer cocked an amused eyebrow at her. "Are you kicking me out, Jean?"

She gave him a cheeky grin, but stood firm. "Yes sir, I am."

The captain sat back slightly in the desk chair and leveled a playful glare at her. "You _do_ realize what insubordination is, Ensign?"

"Captain, do you want me to smile and curtsey and go 'yes sir, no sir, three bags full, sir', or do you want me to do my job?"

The captain stood, smiling slightly despite himself. The fact that this young ensign was bossing him around and had succeeded in getting an informal dialogue going between her two superiors amused him. She had guts and didn't really care about rank, but somehow that didn't seem to be a problem. At least, Archer couldn't foresee it being one. As a medical officer, the only person on board that she had to answer to in a professional capacity was Phlox, and she was always respectful of the Denobulan doctor and deferred to his judgment. She followed Archer's orders and was respectful enough most of the time, but he did worry about what might happen if she ever received an order which she disagreed with. Archer had a feeling that, in that scenario, her disregard for rank might cause trouble. Still, she was dedicated to her job and had a good rapport with Reed. It was good to know that the man had at least one friend on board, especially one who was so affectionate and stubborn. After all, the lieutenant kept to himself so much of the time.

"Alright, admiral, I'm going." He raised his hands in mock surrender, getting the desired mock glare from her for doing it.

Jean spared a moment to shift her glare to Reed. She still was annoyed with him for sharing her nickname with the captain, but the fact that he was allowing more people to see his playful side was encouraging, so she wasn't holding a grudge.

Archer shook his head slightly, evening out his expression until he was in 'captain' face. "Feel better, Malcolm. Do whatever the admiral tells you to and I'm sure you'll be back on duty in a few days." He leaned down, briefly resting a hand on the lieutenant's shoulder. "We miss you on the bridge. Hodges is a fine temporary substitute, but he can't replace you."

Reed nodded tightly, swallowing a sudden lump in his throat. "Thank you, sir."

As ever, he was a man of few words, but the slight tremor in his voice spoke volumes. Talking with the captain for an extended period of time hadn't been one of the more relaxing experiences of his life, but what Archer had said just then was exactly what he'd needed to hear. He hadn't realized it until Archer said it, of course, but now that need was satisfied and he gave his captain a fleeting, tentative smile.

Archer patted his shoulder and ended the silent exchange with a friendly nod, then headed for the door.

Reed waited until the door to the corridor had shut before he let his eyes close, sagging against the locker. "Thanks," he murmured tiredly.

She stepped over to his bunk and rested her hand on his arm, glad he appreciated that she was looking out for him, and used her other hand to retrieve the empty glass. "You're welcome."

He partially opened one eye and said, almost to himself, " ...didn't call me 'sir'."

She leaned away, trying to reach the desk chair and hook her foot around one of its legs while still keeping her hand on his arm. She couldn't quite reach the chair so she momentarily broke contact with his arm, putting the tumbler back onto the mess tray, turning down the main lights, then grabbing the desk chair and pulling it closer to his bunk before seating herself in it. "Nope, I didn't. Guess you're just gonna have to get used to my insubordination."

He let out a short, huffed laugh and slowly shook his head. "I'm already used to it, Ensign. I just don't like it." After a comfortable silence, he opened his eyes to look at her. "Do you think the captain noticed?" He seemed worried.

"No." She shook her head and smiled to herself. "He wasn't watching you as closely as I was."

His eyes slowly closed as he grumbled, "that's hardly comforting."

Jean leaned forward slightly and pet his arm a little. Her other hand found the knob that controlled the lamp which hung over Reed's bed and turned that down as well. The result was that there was enough illumination in the room for them to see each other, but dim enough that if he wanted to sleep, he would be able to. "_Shhh_. Go to sleep."

He nodded, settling more against the locker instead of lying down in bed. Jean frowned at that. "No, wait. Sir, you should lie down."

His eyes slid open, drifting over to give her an irritated look. "You could have said that bit earlier, Ensign."

She smiled crookedly, shrugging. She knew that he should have figured that out for himself, but she also knew that it wasn't worth correcting him. "Yeah. Silly of me. Come on, though. You'll be much more comfortable."

Reed grunted slightly and sat up, hissing as he inadvertently tensed his injured leg. It didn't hurt nearly as much as it had on the planet or even a few days ago, but the sudden bolt of pain took his sleepy mind by surprise.

Jean was kneeling by the bed in a second, scanner in hand. "Your leg?"

He nodded, easing himself down under the covers. "Issnot too bad," he said, gritting his teeth.

She shook her head, reaching into the medkit for something and moving to sit on the bed again. "You truly are a terrible liar. I'm giving you an anesthetic." Before he could argue, she'd pressed a hypo to his upper arm and emptied the contents into his bloodstream. "It's a small dose."

Reed sighed at the instant cessation of pain, too tired and relieved to really be annoyed by the fact that she hadn't actually asked permission before injecting him. "Thank you." He let himself slip down onto the pillows and felt her pulling the covers up over his shoulders. The blanket edge stopped just short of his chin, ensuring that he would be nice and warm while he slept.

"You're welcome." She studied his sleepy face for a while, then grew concerned when he put a hand to his belly beneath the blankets. "You feeling okay?"

She reached out, waving the scanner over him when he didn't answer. The device didn't register any gastrointestinal distress, but then again, it didn't always. She pocketed the scanner and touched his shoulder. "How's that soup treatin' you?"

He opened his eyes reluctantly. _And I was so close to being asleep_. "It was very good, Ensign. Nice and warm. Maybe a bit too salty, but aside from that..."

"No complaints?" Jean studied his expression for some flicker of discomfort, but saw none.

He shook his head. "No complaints. Do you know if there's any left in the galley?"

Her eyes lit up and her ponytail waved slightly as she laughed, relieved and surprised by the question. "Are you actually asking for seconds?"

He looked a little embarrassed and she quickly tried to smooth it over. "Because if you are, sir, that's a good sign. If you're appetite's coming back, that's a good thing. It means this whole mess is almost over. First your appetite'll come back, then you'll start getting energy and strength back from the food, and as long as you keep resting, like the captain said, you'll be back on duty by the end of the week." She touched his arm, moving her fingers over his sleeve soothingly. "D'you want me to bring you more soup?"

Reed shrugged, worrying at the edge of the covers with his fingers and not looking at her. "I don't..." He closed his eyes, still hungry but too tired to deal with any real conversation. "I can go to sleep without it, Ensign. It isn't necessary ..."

Jean rolled her eyes, resisting a very strong urge to buffet him with a pillow. "I could do with some more food, sir. If it's alright with you, I'm going to grab seconds from the galley and bring them back here. You're welcome to eat half of my sandwich and I'll bring another bowl of soup for you. How does that sound?"

The tension left his shoulders and he smiled a tiny bit, his eyes flicking from her to the covers and back every few seconds. "It sounds good, Jean."

She shook her head, laughing at him quietly. "Explain to me how it is that you can be so predictable one second and then surprise me the next."

He turned his head away to muffle a yawn into the pillow. "Excuse me." He blinked, trying to clear his eyes of the slight mistiness which his yawning had created. "I really don't know what to tell you."

Reed let his cheek sink into the pillow, feeling sleep tugging at him. He frowned. If he fell asleep before she came back, he wouldn't get any soup until later, and he was pretty hungry. He hadn't really eaten anything substantial, aside from the first bowl of soup, in more than five days.

"Ensign," he muttered, his voice partially muffled by the pillow, but also oddly higher than usual. Like he had a few days before, he suddenly sounded very young.

"Yes sir?" Her hand was on his arm, slowly running up and down. It felt very nice and reassuring, but it didn't do anything to help him stay awake. He couldn't help smiling a little at the kind touch, though, despite the fact that he didn't want to go to sleep just yet.

"If I've fallen asleep when you come back, could you wake me?"

Jean nodded, still touching him. "Of course, sir. You do need your sleep, though. Maybe you could nap for an hour or two, and then I'll wake you for the soup."

Reed swallowed, taking a moment to consider that. He had to concede that it was a good idea. "Maybe." His voice was quiet and low, closer to its normal pitch. He turned onto his side, getting more comfortable in the bed.

"Okay, and that way we can make sure the soup doesn't disagree with you." She smiled down at him, comparing how cooperative he was now to how he'd been earlier on. Actually, she reflected that he was most cooperative at the end of each day, when he was too tired to fight.

A bit of hair had fallen forward onto his brow when he turned onto his side. Without really thinking, Jean reached over and smoothed it back into place.

He opened one eye when she touched him and she froze for a second, worried about how he might react to the familiarity of the gesture. His eye drifted over her curiously before it slowly closed again. He yawned into the pillow, turning his face aside and licking his lips afterward. She smiled. He was pretty darn cute like this, and, clinically speaking, he did look much better than he had in days. His color was coming back, he wasn't sweaty or shivering all the time, and he'd lost that tired, pinched look he'd been wearing since the mission. As a matter of fact, he didn't really look sick anymore.

"Sir?" It seemed like he was asleep, and if he was she didn't want to wake him, so she kept her voice to a whisper.

He muttered something she didn't catch. She tried again. "Sir?" This time she accompanied the whisper with a light touch to his shoulder.

Again, he didn't offer an intelligible response. She gave him a fond pat and stood up. "Pleasant dreams, sir."

Jean started to head out, meaning to bring their dirty dishes back to the galley, but when she was halfway to the door a sleepy voice stopped her. "Ensign?"

She was back at the bed within seconds. "Yes, sir?"

Reed smiled up at the worried face hovering over him. "I wanted to thank you for... for looking after me." He furrowed his brow, childishly mimicking her concerned expression. "I'm not sure how to repay you."

Her worry cleared and she sat on the edge of his bunk, resting a hand on his arm. "Just be my friend. That's all I ask."

He blinked sleepily and gave a broad smile, reaching over and squeezing her hand. "Friends, then." His grin lit up the dim room until a yawn made his face crumple. "Oh, pardon me."

She shook her head at him, also grinning. "Sleep, silly man. I'll wake you when it's time for the soup."

He nodded, allowing his heavy lids to fall shut and drowsily hitching the blankets up over his shoulder as she stood.

She pet his hair back a little, smoothing it into place, but instead of heading for the door again, she settled back into her chair. Getting the soup could wait for a little while, at least until Reed had gotten some decent sleep. In the mean time, she could always keep an eye on him while she made more headway into the Dumas. A random thought made her smile as she took out the PADD and scrolled it to the correct place, and she leaned forward to gently shake Reed's arm.

"How about I read to you for a bit? You were on chapter sixteen, right?"

Reed gave a half-asleep affirmative mumble, shifting onto his back again. Once he had found a comfortable position, he opened one eye and turned his head slightly in order to look at her. "Are you serious?"

She smiled and gave him a playful wink. "I think this next bit is oddly appropriate: '_Chapter Sixteen: An Italian Scholar._ _Dantes embraced this new friend for whom he had waited so long and with such impatience, and drew him over to the window, so that the faint light that seeped from outside into the cell would illuminate his face. He was short in stature, with hair whitened by suffering more than by age, a penetrating eye…'_"

Jean broke off the narration and shook her head, wearing a bemused smile. "If you had some gray hairs, Dumas could almost have been describing you. Lets see… ' _a penetrating eye hidden beneath thick, grizzled brows, and a still-black beard which extended to his chest...'_"

Reed shook his head and gave a light chuckle at her gentle teasing. He let himself be soothed by her voice, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm as he drifted off, feeling warm, cared for, and most importantly, happy.

The End


End file.
